The end

I'm not going to lie to you people: This month of gratitude has been long and difficult, and maybe it showed.

It's not that I am not experiencing gratitude, it's just that this is my 90th of these posts in three years, and so much of what I am grateful for is perpetual or semi-perpetual. How many ways can I say I like my friends and family?

Some actual rejected topics for recent month of gratitude posts:

• Cuban sandwiches
• Meetings that start on time
• Not actually knowing Manila from "RuPaul's Drag Race" Season 3 in real life
• Corrective lenses
• Not owning a dog
• Broccoli
• The wisdom of cowardice
• A short driveway
• Frank Oz
• Really great phrases (I actually like this one, but then I couldn't think of any. Aside from, "Her eyes flashed," which I love and which reminds me of Scarlett O'Hara.)
• The optimism of Powerball

They're not all bad topics; I just don't necessarily have a lot to say about them all. OK, and some of them are bad topics.

Day 30 of my month of gratitude: I'm glad for the end of the month of gratitude, thankful to be able to just be grateful rather than telling you how grateful I am. I don't think this'll be the last incarnation of this project, but it may be the last time I do it quite this way. Thoughts?

Piñata Colada

Inevitably, during the month of gratitude, I hit a weird kind of writer's block.

I'm not stranger to regular writer's block; I've been writing for a living for maybe 9 years now, and there have been a decade and a half or so of school assignments that have suffered from that crushing inability to write anything.

This isn't that.

And it's not, quite, that I am struggling to find things to be thankful for. I can look around my surroundings and find half a dozen things within a couple of feet of me for which I'm grateful, either actually or symbolically. My life is full to brimming with blessings.

This is more like — rebellion. And it happens every year. This is when I've had a couple of tough days (all things being relative, of course — my rough days are not so awfully rough) and I can still see all the things for which I should be thankful and I just. Don't. Feel like it.

It feels, inside, exactly like a temper tantrum. I'm cranky and fussy and just don't want to do what I perceive as being asked of me. It's the same feeling that makes a teenager scream "I hate you!" at people she obviously loves. I guess it's ingratitude, but it's a specific kind of frustration and ingratitude that we've all had, all watched unfold in our younger selves or children.

And I think maybe that right there is the point of this whole damn exercise.

I am, and think many people are, pretty good at maintaining a base level of gratitude. I don't always say it out loud, to the people around me, or even to God, but I do often say it out loud. I say "thank you" a lot, all year round. And I am hugely aware of my own blessings, of my own privilege, of the ways those things enrich my life and also could spoil me if I let them.

The trick is to find that gratitude when I don't want to, when things make me tired or mad. That is not why I started this series, but it does feel, right now, very much like why I should keep up with it every single day, rather than playing catch-up when I feel more inclined to.

Day 18 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful. For paper and pens and computers and telephones and my car keys and clothes on my back and heat and tissues and volunteer work and cough drops and friends and eyeglasses and electricity and hair elastics and a relationship with the Divine and television and movies and sports and ... I don't know, all that stuff is kind of magical, right? But today, I am also thankful for being required to remember how thankful I am and should be. When I was a kid at the mall on the verge of a meltdown, my mother would get me an Orange Julius. I am thankful for Orange Julius.

Good

Oh, look! It's November again. And one reader loooooooves the Month of Gratitude, so I'm doing it again.

Here's a thing about me that many people who know me well do not know about me: I am terrified, like, total-panic-level terrified, of Doing It Wrong.

That is true for almost any It I do over the course of a day or a lifetime:

• doing my job
• getting dressed
• accessorizing
• being a friend
• being a girlfriend
• dancing
• singing
• stage management
• staying in touch
• eating
• dental hygiene
• feminism
• antiracism
• telling a joke
• cooking for people
• playing pool
• coordinating an event
• having people over
• blogging

Some of you will want to reassure me that I don't do at least some of those Its wrong, because you like the way I do them. That is sweet, but not really the point.

Of course I'm good at some (many) of those things. I don't do a lot of them unless I'm nearly certain I can do them right. And even still, I screw up sometimes.

The most liberating thing a former colleague ever said to me was, "Sometimes, done is good." I don't put that advice into practice very often, but when I do, it is always, always a relief.

All of that by way of saying, some of why you don't get very many blog posts from me is that I am really really, often, afraid of Doing It Wrong — of not being funny or clever enough, of offending someone or making space for someone else to offend someone. And here is where I should say, "but I'm over all that. If people get offended, that's their problem. Maybe they needed to be offended." But I won't, because actually, I think concern for that kind of thing is one of my pretty good qualities, even if it is the flip side of one of the qualities that gets in my way most.

Day 1 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for friends and readers who are not usually as hard on me as I am on myself. I'd also be super, super thankful if any of those friends or readers wanted to write a guest post this month, à la last year.

Note: Lest any of you start worrying that I apply the same standards to others that I do to myself, I don't. First, I am too busy worrying about me to worry about you. Mostly. Second, if you're in my life, it's probably because you do at least one thing very well that I wish I could do so well. Nearly all of my friends share that. 

Hey, thanks

Longtime readers will know that November is traditionally my month of gratitude, in which I share a post a day on what I'm thankful for.

Longtime readers may also remember that last year, I made noise about how maybe I wouldn't do it quite the same way anymore.

At the time, what I was thinking was that maybe I'd do a month of gratitude every 13 (or 11) months, so that it wouldn't always be November — at least that might lend some diversity to my nature- or weather-based gratitudes. And I reserve the right to do that in the future.

But for this year, I just had an even better idea.

Guest posters.

Any of you want to do just one post in November for CMC on the subject of something for which you are thankful?* I'll take volunteers here in the comments. Every day I don't have a guest post to share, I'll post myself, just the way I have the last few years. Won't that be the funnest?

If you have questions, you can drop those right into the comments, too.

*Guidelines: Volunteers should be prepared to write a guest post on the subject of something for which they are thankful. Posts can be of any length. Deadlines will be mutually agreed-upon. Guest posters who have their own blogs will obviously be free to link to their own blogs. Guest posters who prefer to remain anonymous will be assigned a name to distinguish them from other guest posters or commenters. Potential volunteers who prefer to blog on a different topic are encouraged to look at my old month-of-gratitude posts and observe a long and proud history of writing whatever I want and twisting it to vaguely connect to gratitude.

Muffie

My bed is my shrink each morning, and I therefore lie in it, in Nick and Nora starry sky pajamas from Target that were recently a Halloween costume, between flannel sheets with woodsy illustrations on them from TJ Maxx — for far too long. After I emerge, I put on Tommy Hilfiger jeans from my favorite thrift store, biala shoes from the same thrift store, a short-sleeved red cotton sweater my neighbor gave me as a hand-me-down that I think looks cute even though it now has several pulls, and the same long-sleeved black t-shirt from Target I wore yesterday — not in that order, because that would be a strange way to dress. For jewelry, I went with earrings and a bracelet from a certain very exclusive direct sales company I used to work for, a necklace my cousin gave me that is a shell and a stone on a string (made by her friend Wheels who used to be a bike courier), and my grandmother's seal ring.

I went to work, at which I had several meetings, and lunched with a favorite administrator — while still wearing the same clothes.

After work, I will likely decide that these jeans are a little snugger than I prefer, and change into the Bella Elemento jeans I got at a clothing swap last night (I originally purchased them on ebay for $8, then swapped them away to a friend, then got them back last night because I'm running out of jeans without holes), keeping the rest of my ensemble intact. At that point I may decide to go out to a favorite watering hole, donning a 13-year-old red down vest from Eddie Bauer, which clashes whimsically with the red of my sweater.

Day 18 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful that I am not Muffie Potter Aston, and that I can reliably say that having my children compliment my outfit is unlikely ever to be "as good as it gets" for me. That may be because I have neither children nor a Badgley Mischka Couture silver sequin mermaid-style dress with double tulle overlays, but I don't think so.

OK, now I feel like I have a little bit spoiled the month of gratitude with snark. I'm keeping the snark, obviously, because it's funny to me, but I'll also give you some actual gratitude that isn't just being mean to someone else.

Day 18 of my month of gratitude, seriously: I am thankful that there are clothes on my back, that it is a gorgeous fall day in New England, and that others do not judge me as harshly as I sometimes judge.

Through

I had this whole awesome sarcastic post written in my head that only about three of you would have gotten for the sarcastic sarcasm it would have been and the rest of you would have wondered what the hell I was talking about, and it would have been just brilliant, better than "A Modest Proposal," but somehow sarcastic rants that could also come back to bite me did not seem in keeping with the spirit of the month of gratitude.

I also had a very loving, very sincere post half-written in my head, totally in keeping with the spirit of the month of gratitude, but the only way that one would have made any sense would have been if I'd divulged information that is not mine to divulge.

It is one of those kinds of days.


Day 9 of my month of gratitude: Days like this, I am thankful just to get through. And I did.

Just folk like me

November 1 is traditionally the beginning of my month of gratitude, and this November 1 is no different in that regard.

I am lucky to have a few excellent people who've signed on to be guest bloggers this month (though I'm open to more if you're interested), but most of the posts will still be mine.

Last year, I wrote a little about how November 1 is also All Saints' Day, and I will say this about that: Wikipedia is a wealth of information and also excellent turns of phrase on the subjects of saints and "I Sing a Song of the Saints of God."

So let's go back to that hymn from last year. The gist of it, basically, is, "I could do that."

And it's true.

And people love it. In fact, according to Wikipedia, "The hymn remains a popular favourite with American churchgoers who have grown up with it. In a 2003 survey of 'desert island' hymns run by the website anglicansonline.org, the hymn was voted 14th."

Now, there's kind of a lot going on in that last sentence, and I do not know what a desert island hymn is (I mean, I can guess, but — is that a thing?), but it's a pretty neat thing that a hymn written to suggest to children that the world is full of good and holy people and that there's no reason for said children not to do the same is that popular, especially when we sing it once a year, pretty much.

There's a lot of crap in the world. And say what you want, Hymnal 1982 committee, about that hymn's alleged lack of theological profundity, but that idea — that goodness is real and present in our lives, and to be emulated — does not feel so shallow to me.

Day 1 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for the saints as they are evident to me in my life, for those who are role models and teachers and sources of benevolence, for those who reflect or connect the divine to us, for the patient, the brave, and the true.






Hey, if you're new around here and not sure how you feel about this religious mumbo-jumbo, please stick around. I don't always talk about saints. Sometimes, I talk about radical politics or animals in buildings or food that makes me angry. Often, I tell funny stories at my expense. Poke around; there's really something for everyone.

Safe spaces

So I had this post all written in my head about the other big anniversary yesterday was, and then rechecked the calendar and realized that the anniversary I meant to commemorate isn't until Monday. Whoops. That'll wait.

I have another post written in my head that requires photos I can't take until probably tomorrow, so, that'll wait.

I have another post I'm working on in my head that is serious and religious and really better suited to tomorrow, so, that'll wait.

I had pie for breakfast, and that was good, but I've done the pie for breakfast post before.

That is a thing that happens when you write dozens of gratitude posts, always at the same time of year. You get grateful for the same things. Maybe next year's month of gratitude will be October or December, and we'll just rotate it a notch on the chore chart every year. It's not that I am not full-to-brimming with gratitude; it's just that sometimes, I am not full-to-brimming with creativity. Also, sometimes, I am distracted from that gratitude, a little, by fear or life or whatever.

Day 21 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for my own health and safety and that of so many people I love. Take care this long weekend, folks. Travel safely and don't trample anyone to get to the Cabbage Patch Kids.

k thx

It's not that I don't like blogging, you know. I love it. I love it more when you read what I write and tell me how funny and smart and awesome I am.

But sometimes, in life and on the blog, I get distracted, overwhelmed, unmotivated, for about a million reasons, almost none of them interesting. And then I don't do anything well.

But the cool kids are doing this month-of-gratitude thing. And I'm hoping that, if I post my gratitudes here, every day for a month, I will:

• Get back into the swing of blogging
• Get more motivated generally
• Get happier generally
• Be more deliberate about what I do and engage with
• Reengage you people, who I miss, a lot

Now, it's still me. I'm not sure I'm capable of a month of mushiness, even if it is warranted. So, with a little luck, I'll be able to be a little creative in the ways I express my thanks. Maybe there'll be:

• Photos, or bad drawings
• Funny stories at my expense
• Funny stories at others' expense
• Religion
• Politics
• Sex (OK, probably not.)
• Links to other places on the internet that are even more interesting than this one.
• Bulleted lists

I don't know. But I'm ready to give it a shot.

Day 1 of my month of gratitude: I'm grateful that I have this space, and that you — yes, you — are reading. And will be extra-grateful if you'll tell me what kind of stuff you want to read, this month and all the time.

Video killed the broken heart

The irony of my missing my second day of a month of gratitude is that I actually have a few post ideas stockpiled so I won't have any trouble doing one a day. Stockpile does not help with the remembering to just do it, though.

A friend of mine from college and so many experiences beyond college I don't know where he's a friend from anymore used to say that most of what people talk about is other people they know and television. We discussed why that was a lot, but the idea is, we're all looking for discussion topics in common, and if you don't have friends in common, you probably have TV people. Luckily, he and I had (and have) lots of people in common.

And then a podcast I listened to after my last difficult breakup — on the subject of handling breakups — suggested the TV series on DVDs as a strategy. The idea there is, you always have people you know waiting for you at home that way. You can watch Mary and Lou and Rhoda, or hang with Chandler and Monica and Joey and Rachel, or whatever. I took that to heart at the time, and it worked. In fact, in retrospect, TV series in syndication got me through every rough part of my childhood and adolescence — and although many people had much worse childhoods and adolescences than I did, I needed those friends from M*A*S*H and Welcome Back, Kotter and Happy Days. I really do gravitate to shows about circles of friends, not because I didn't (or don't) have friends of my own, but because there is comfort about a circle, a group, that you can call on when you want them. TV gets a lot of blame, and it probably deserves it, but we watch it for lots of reasons, and there's one of them.

Oh in case you were concerned, I just finished watching all of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. That's what brings this to mind, rather than any fresh wounds. Don't worry.

Day 3 of my month of gratitude: I am grateful for TV. Blessed, blessed TV. Any suggestions for what I should be watching next?

Thank you

Happy Thanksgiving.

I think we've discussed before that I feel conflicted about Thanksgiving; for some of why, see Cal's blog. It's worth knowing that the things we were told about Pilgrims and Indians is beyond sappy and inaccurate; it's dangerous, willful propaganda.

But then there is pie, which is not such a big deal, and the one time a year my mother's side of the family is together, which is a big deal, and an opportunity to reflect on gratitude, which is the biggest deal of all, to me.

So, conflicted.

I try to separate the great gifts of this day from the reason for the season, and I do OK, because like most Americans, I do just fine at ignoring history, mostly — but ignoring history has a price, and I am lucky enough that I'm not the one paying it, mostly.

Sorry, didn't mean to be such a downer. It just seemed wrong to have you along for this ride for a whole month without my saying anything.

And today's piece of gratitude, about which I feel unconflicted, is you.

It's everyone who reads this blog, ever.

And it is most especially those of you who've helped me out this month.

• bzh, and
• April, and
• Amanda, and
• Joe, and
• my Rock Star friend, and
• Bread Truck Grrl, and
• the happily married, and
• Mike, and
• RI, and
• Kay, and
• Calvin Rey 

The eleven of you have enriched this month for me through your stories and your generosity and your taking some of the pressure off me.

Day 28 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for you. Thanks again.

Whimsical

Sometimes, I am reading a blog, and the blogger has written a long list of things she's thankful for. I mean, a long list. So I might be maybe a little hoping she'll give me ideas I can steal for my month of gratitude series, and then all of a sudden I'm in her blog as a thing she is thankful for.

Whoa.

That's, like:

• so meta
• so sweet
• so cool
• so weird

I should say a little about Whimsy (the aforementioned blogger). I don't know her. Never met her. The things I know about her are what she writes on her blog, so, mostly about her daughter and her husband and her deep friendships and some travel stuff. Her blog landed in my reader initially because she was funny and smart, and though that is still true, I read a lot of funny smart stuff, and a lot of funny smart stuff has been streamlined out of my reader. She stays there because her blog exudes this amazing, consuming love — in addition to the smart and funny. I like having that kind of love in my day.

It's Thanksgiving Day, and I'm also one post behind, so you'll likely be getting another post from me. But I also have to drive several hundred miles, and maybe go for a run, and enjoy a big meal with some of the people who've known me longest and best and who love me much (as I do them), so, you know, maybe there won't be a lot of time for posting. Whatever you do with your day today, I hope that you are happy and safe and well-loved, and that someone lets you know you are cared for.

Day 23 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful for people who make the internet not only funnier and smarter, but also warmer. I am thankful for people who let me into their lives and then make me glad of it.

Got a light?

Every year, it seems like I have a hard time wrapping up the month of gratitude on time. December comes too fast. This year, it seemed to come faster.

This year, the beginning of Advent came with the beginning of December — Advent calendars would have you think that's how it always is, but it's only about every seven years, and seems rarer than that.

I keep feeling like I should have been better prepared for Advent this year — should have had an advent wreath together, or an advent calendar, or something.

December's also a dark month here. Last week, I finally remembered to eat lunch because it was starting to get dusky — around 3:30. Twice.

We fill the month with twinkly lights and candles — for Advent, for Hanukkah, for solstice, for Kwanzaa, for St. Lucy's Day, for Christmas. Advent is time to get ready for Christmas. Solstice brings increasingly brighter days — eventually. The first Sunday of advent, I lit candles with old friends while I shared a meal, chased with hot chocolate and laughter. Tonight, the second Sunday of Advent, I am watching the creepy Finnish Santa movie Rare Exports followed by the amazing Elf, with Chinese food and peanut butter cookies, with people who I care about and who respect these gatherings as ritual.

But it is dark, dark, dark up here, sometimes in more ways than one, and it's really important to make a point of finding that light where we can, and sharing it whenever possible, I think.

A belated day 30 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for literal and metaphoric light in the darkness, and for the people that shine both with me.

Mirror, mirror

This may feel duplicative; it's for sure related to my last post. But here's the thing about these gratitude posts: Increasingly, public expressions of gratitude make me feel conflicted.

I think it's important to express gratitude to the people or entities to whom you feel that gratitude. I do that lots of ways: I give money to important nonprofits, I continue to patronize businesses that serve me, I pray, I say, "thank you," for kindnesses small and large.

But writing about the things for which I, specifically, am thankful increasingly feels boastful or tone-deaf or maybe both. For every blessing I have, and for which I am truly thankful, there are others — including others who read this — who are suffering for its lack. Right?

Except, I don't know. Conversations about gratitude also feel important to me. But maybe they can be just that — discussions about gratitude and its expression — without being laundry lists of all the great stuff I have. I suppose I have 11 months to think about it.

Any thoughts from you?

Day 30 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for opportunities at introspection, for time for reflection, and for the folks who contribute to that kind of thinking.

Thanks, given

So, it's Thanksgiving here in the U.S.

I'll gather with family late this afternoon, will spend most of the weekend surrounded by people I love who will also once or twice drive me crazy. It's OK; I give as good as I get, crazy-driving-wise.

But I have the early part of this day to myself. I will spend some time eating the trial pie I made that didn't work out quite as well as I'd hoped, making a new pie and hoping it turns out better, reflecting on the difficult nature of this holiday and its origins in this country, and praying.

But first, I'm going to talk to you a bunch about prayer. Those of you who are uncomfortable with that are warned.

Here is how I pray:

• Sometimes, very formally*
• Sometimes, very frantically**
• Sometimes, for someone else who might need it***
• Sometimes, for me when I need it****
• Sometimes, thankfully*****

Here is why I pray:
I think it builds relationship. Specifically (but not exclusively) my relationship to God. I think God likes it when I engage that way. I do that with people, too; I write here, I talk a bunch, I check in. I am most comfortable in relationship to anyone when I'm in communication. And though people sometimes misunderstand my imperfect words, God takes them how I mean them, every time.

Also, with God, no pressure to be funny. I like that.

When I was a kid, my grandfather kept chocolate around, which he would frequently and generously offer to his grandchildren (and probably everyone else, but this is about me). One day, I swiped a piece out of the kitchen. I didn't think of it as swiping; I thought of it as mine, frankly. But I got caught, and my mother impressed upon me — firmly — that if I wanted my grandfather's chocolate, I needed to ask him for it. And right then, I needed to go talk to him about taking it.

Prayer is not about getting what I want. It's about the act of asking for what I want. And then, it's about expressing gratitude for what I have, even the things I didn't know enough to ask for. Whether I talked to my grandfather or just took it, I was still getting chocolate out of the deal. But the chocolate was offered by someone who was generous and loved me, so I'd know it. And my communication with him, whether about chocolate or the Red Sox or World War II was what I, as a child, had to offer to the relationship.

Prayer, for me, isn't a magic ATM; it's a conversation. Furthermore, it's a conversation with someone who already knows everything and can do everything. The power differential is bigger than mine and my grandfather's — even bigger, if you can imagine. All I have to offer back to this relationship is my commitment to the relationship itself.

And there are folks for whom my method of prayer doesn't work, and those for whom any method of prayer doesn't make sense. I both understand and respect that. We all build relationships differently, and with different people and things.

Day 22 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful beyond words for my relationship to the Divine, and for being loved despite my imperfect expressions of love — unconditionally, in fact. I am thankful for material and relational abundances. I am thankful for grace and peace and joy, and for my opportunities — too infrequently taken — to strengthen them all.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.




* For example: Almighty and gracious Father, I give you thanks for the fruits of the earth in their season and for the labors of those who harvest them. Make me, I pray, a faithful steward of your great bounty, for the provision of necessities and the relief of all who are in need, to the glory of your Name, through Jesus Christ the Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. There's lots more where that came from in The Book of Common Prayer.
** For example: Please oh please God let me get to the next gas station. Please God please please please let me have enough gas just to get to the next gas station. Please.
*** For example: Please, God, be with him and keep him safe through this hard time.
**** For example: Please, help me to make the right choice here. Please help me to see what I should do.
***** For example: Thankyouthankyouthankyouthankyouthankyou Lord.

Dating game

Some of you have wondered how my single life is.

As I may have mentioned elsewhere, I am on a certain online dating site that rhymes with "No way, stupid."

Here's how that's going for me, by the very rough numbers:

• Years of membership: 4, minus maybe 6 or 7 combined total months when I was dating someone or too tired to keep trying
• Number of ridiculous questions answered: 2,511
• Number of messages from vaguely sketchy straight men: Roughly 15
• Number of messages from seriously, demonstrably sketchy straight men: 1
• Total number of first dates yielded: Roughly 10
• Total number of second dates: 1
• Number of great friends found through direct dating-site contact: 2
• Number of great friends made indirectly, as a result of those contacts: Roughly 20

I have also responded to a small handful of Craigslist personal ads.

Here's how that's going for me:

• Number of ads responded to: 5
• Number of entirely sketchy responses to my responses: 4
• Number of entirely sketchy people I inadvertently responded to twice, via different ads: 1
• Number of great friends made through direct Craigslist contact: 1
• Number of great friends made indirectly, as a result of that contact: Roughly 12

And overall:

• Number of close non-internet friends who've met great partners on the same dating site I'm actively on since I've been on it: 2
• Number of hours I've spent discussing with those friends our prospects and sharing profiles of potential partners: Roughly 600
• Number of other dating sites I'm theoretically on that have yielded literally nothing, datewise or friendwise or experiencewise: 2
• Percentage of local queer friends met directly or indirectly through the internet: Roughly 74
• Number of potentially life-changing experiences had, so far, as a result of those relationships: Already too many to count.

That's how. You?

Day 26 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful* for the internet, and for finding miraculous diamonds while you're looking for rubies.

*I initially mistyped that word "dateful." I do not know what that means, but I like it.

Possibly but not definitely less athletic

Note: On the Facebook page, I mentioned a little while back that I had a folder full of drafts I never finished: More than 60 of 'em, in fact. I'm going through that folder now, deleting what's not worth it, posting what might entertain you — or what makes my month of gratitude a little easier. This dates back to September 4, 2012. 

I know, I know, I'm always bragging about the family.

But I counted, and, in my generation, there are:

• 2 cousins on my mother's side
• 7 cousins on my father's side
• 1 sibling
• 1 me

...and I got to spend time with all but one of those people this summer. Awesome.


And a generation down, there are:

• 4 first cousins once removed on my mother's side
• 7 first cousins once removed on my father's side
• 1 niece
• 1 nephew

...and I got to spend time with all but three of those people this summer.

And here is what I have learned from those experiences:
I am related to better-than-average people in most ways. Better looking, funnier, more interesting, more interested. More loving, and with better stories. More adventurous.

Day 24 of our month of gratitude: I am thankful for my family of origin and the people who've joined the fold, including but not limited to the twenty (or so) people I'll spend this Thursday with.

Love

Lots of work to do today, and lots of stories to tell you going forward, but I'm hoping to wrap up this month of gratitude, however belatedly.

A Facebook friend shared this blog post today, and this is a largely preaching-to-the-choir situation here, but I thought it was an interesting one.

Here is what I commented there:

I agree with your bigger, grander points, absolutely. Without question. And while I am not perfect in this, I do strive to live a life in which I accept people as they come (though it is harder with mean people. I mean, right?).

That said, I'm more worried about your friend than about your bigger point, because I know how deeply that hurts. "Jacob," if you're reading: I'm queer, and Christian, and I have found supportive, loving people in my life, in places I wouldn't have imagined. I'm sorry people have abandoned you (as some have abandoned me). Those people suck. You deserve better, and I hope you find better. If you friended me on Facebook, I'd keep you.

Belated Day 26 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful to have supportive, loving people in my life, and I am thankful for the ones who can handle it. I am also thankful for those who can't quite handle it, but try. And I am very thankful for those who went before me, both out queers and loving non-queers, who prepped the world to love me a little more easily.



P.S.: The discussion in the comments on that post has gotten largely bogged down in "IS IT A CHOICE?!" Here, in case you are wondering, are the basic arguments in that conversation, always:

• It's a choice and you are damned to hell for it.
• It is not a choice; who would choose such a miserable life?!
• It is not a choice, just like you didn't choose to be straight!!
• Love the sinner, hate the sin.

And here, in case you are wondering, are my responses to those arguments:

• If it is a choice, someone else will be deciding about the whole hell thing; back off.
• I would. I'm not all that miserable. If it's a choice, I would totally choose it; this life has given me far more blessings than misery.
• People totally choose to be straight. See: Every creepy closet case politician.
• You don't have to know whether it's a sin. You don't need this line anymore. You can just love everyone.
• And a bonus: I suspect that orientation is more of a choice for some than for others, and either way, I think it's not a great basis for denying people their civil rights. "Choice" is a red herring.

Update because not everyone reads the comments, though they should: Commenter icanhasyarn, who shared the original post with me in the first place, observes that everyone should also read the follow-up post. So, so, true. For my money, even better than the first one. Go read it. All of it.

Dreamy

I've been home sick — you don't want the gory details, but I'm achy and sneezy and my nose runs like a faucet until I take medicine that dries me out to the point of pain and nosebleeds. I guess that is the gory details. Sorry.

This morning, I had a dream, and the details are fading fast, but my sister brought me to a church service that she said would be pretty much like my regular church, and it was not (lots of running around) and I was very confused.

Then I was taking a class through work at the college that had something to do with sex, but when I got the textbook (which a friend gave me at church), it seemed to be about Cerebral Palsy. I almost accidentally left it in the pew, and as I was going back to retrieve it, I thought of you — while still dreaming. I thought, "Here's a funny story for my month of gratitude — I'm thankful I didn't accidentally leave my sex textbook in a church that isn't even mine." I was sooooooo amused.

That was before my dream self had read the back of the book (while trying to find my car and crossing busy streets in Brattleboro, Vermont) and knew that it was about CP.

Belated, sicko Day 6 of my month of gratitude: I am thankful I didn't accidentally leave my sex textbook in a church that isn't even mine.

Heh.

I feel like this month of gratitude has been very serious. Like, each post by itself feels like me, and feels like something I would write, but as a collection so far, where's the laughter? Where are the wacky antics? Have no high jinks ensued?

There's plenty of that in my life right now, actually, but mostly, it doesn't come in story form — it's been moments that were hilarious if you were there, but that aren't translating so well to web posts — bowling in costume, that kind of thing.

Oh, but if you want funny? You know what was funny? The Halloween episode of The Office. It particularly showed off James Spader to excellent advantage, I thought. Here, treat yourself, if you haven't already:




Belated Day 5 of my month of gratitude: I'm thankful for every belly laugh and chuckle. And for finally understanding what the fuss is about with James Spader. Never really got that before.