Becoming Something

Checking off an item from my bucket list: Back flip

2010-03-21T15:59:09-06:00

I took Sarah, our nanny (and friend) from Wales, to West Edmonton Mall on Saturday so she could say she's been there. She didn't even get to see Galaxyland with all the indoor rides and roller coasters and I'm not too disappointed because she likely would have wanted me to ride with her and well, I'm just getting too old for those kinds of shenanigans.

Instead, we saw trampolines with tethers attached and DING!, my Things I Want to Do Before I'm Dead/Crazy/Quadriplegic list (see right hand side of blog) came to mind. (The "quadriplegic" part wouldn't fit in Typepad's title field.)

So, I've made a video of our back flips and of some dancing. Didn't feel like bothering to make two or three videos.

The benefit of videos like this is that I'm reminded to either suck in my gut on a more regular basis or start doing that P90X dvd set that I asked Jude to buy.

(I forgot to add in the video that even when the guy helped me do a forward flip, it hurt my stomach and ribs a lot. Next time I go, I'll make sure the belt is lower, like around my hips, and I'll try more of this without holding on to the ropes. Can't wait!)

Daily Gratitudes

It's a sunny, warm day.
Sarah and I had a lot of fun yesterday.
I've found new music that I like that distracts me.
Maple sugar candies.

A letter I got after my "Bear My Burden?" post.

2010-03-19T17:39:52-06:00

So, I prayed before posting this. I felt peace. But that wasn't enough for me. I wanted more info. I asked if anything bad would happen. In response, I heard words in my head that some bad and some good would happen and how I handled it would decide if it was worth it or not. I asked Jude and he said that I should post it.

Shortly after posting, something bad happened that got worked out.

And then on the same day, I got this letter, below. AND Jude Law appeared on SNL. Coincidence? I think not. Blessings all around. (His opening monologue was SO good.)

I have frequently felt that talking about this issue is something I should do because there are people who can be helped by my ability to be fairly open and to not care too much about what people think. (Of course, there will always be things I won't talk about to protect my family's privacy.)

But I wrote about this because I wanted people to understand that homosexuality isn't all about sex and the challenge to live with it is not even all about avoiding relationships. I certainly can't avoid all female friendships and I don't like the distance I have to keep in order to not develop feelings for straight friends. It's a much bigger issue than simply choosing behaviours.

I wanted people to have a glimpse into the real feelings and pain that people feel. I wanted to inspire compassion for me, yes, but also some other Mormons who have same sex attractions/longings.

This email, from someone I hope is a new friend, made me cry. I've changed some details to protect her privacy. Also, sorry about the Mormon lingo, all you non-Mormons.

Dear Natasha,

I would be honored to help bear your burden; you have already helped me bear mine. That's what sisters in Zion are for, and though we are strangers, you are also my dear sister, and I am sorry that you hurt. I will keep you in my prayers.

I discovered your blog not long ago; I don't remember what lead me there, but I'm pretty sure it must have been divine inspiration. I read through your experiences with depression, and they are so similar to my own. I know those feelings. It was a comfort to know that someone else understands, and understands them from an LDS gospel perspective. And then, just a few months ago, my husband and I went through an upheaval in our marriage of 14 years as a result of his same-sex attraction. Nothing happened, but I think it came close. It shook a lot of things loose that we're still putting aright. He's had to consider issues he's been trying NOT to deal with his whole life.

I had a very hard time not feeling it was a rejection of me, or that he was using me to cover up who he really was. But I happened to visit your blog and read what you'd written about your own same-sex attraction, and it helped me understand, so much more clearly, what a challenge it must be. Even more, it helped me *calm down*.

I know this is one of the most difficult challenges of mortality that our Heavenly Father has given his children.

As my husband and I talked, and as I pondered what you had written, I realized that it doesn't matter if my husband is attracted to other people, male or female or both; what matters is that he's made a promise to me and to the Lord that we will work together to build a family in the Lord's way. And I suspect that those who do this while having to reign in attractions that the rest of the world is encouraging them to express, will be blessed in abundance. And I know that doesn't make things any easier right now. Believe me, I know.

One of the things that has always helped me get through my worst depressions is remembering that Christ has experienced, firsthand, everything that we experience. When he hung on the cross, just before giving up his life, and cried out "My God, my God, why hast thou forsaken me?" to me, this shows that he felt the depths of despair: when it's impossible even to feel the presence of the Spirit. I don't believe Heavenly Father turned away from Christ for one second, but it was necessary for Christ to feel *as though he had* so he'd know truly what it felt like to believe he had been forsaken. And I believe he knows, from experience, what it is like to experience homosexual attraction, and to be asked not to express that attraction in his behavior.

I've thought about this a lot. I really do believe he understands this issue from the inside out. I know there are people who would probably see that as some sort of blasphemy; I see it as a remarkable, wonderful thing. Because he understands each of us, and our struggles, perfectly. He knows. He aches for us and with us when we ache, not just from sympathy and love, but from real understanding. I don't know if it helps you to think of that, but it might. Turn your grief and loss and love over to him; he knows how to comfort you. I hope I'm not sounding too preachy or like I think it's easy. I know it's not. I don't know what I would do if I were in your shoes. I've even told my husband that I want him to be happy, and if that means he has to leave the family, then we'll deal with that. I don't want him to leave, but I don't want him to stay and feel he's stifling part of himself, either. It's a hard path to find.

I've been lucky that I have a couple of LDS friends who know me, and whom I could talk with about this, without being judged. But I know what you mean about wishing we could discuss those things that trouble our hearts most closely in church, and get support from our Relief Society sisters without fear of being judged or shunned. The members of the church *should* be able to do this for one another. And maybe it's too much to ask for all of them to be able to handle complicated issues. But I've come to believe that this is one of the blessings of modern technology; we can find those who know how to help us bear our burdens across the miles; around the world. But I hope you can feel me trying to lift you from here.

I hope some of this makes sense; I feel like I'm babbling. But I just wanted to say I'm here, if you ever want to talk; you've already helped me more than I can express through your honest and open writings on your blog. I'm grateful for your words, and hope you will find your way through this grief and back to joy soon. You're in my prayers.

Daily Gratitudes

A sunny day.
A smidgen of resolution that I can move on.
Being able to be a listening ear to another woman in our church ward. Wiping her tear away and seeing that easy, minor act of tenderness made her feel better.
Ron rubbing my back (in front of Pam), in an affectionate effort to comfort me, I think, or suggest that he's there for me. That minor act of tenderness meant a huge amount to me and almost had me burst into tears. I so wish that adults could adopt other adults. I'd go to the temple to be sealed to him and Pam.
We finally received our tax refund and the cheque from one of our neighbor's for her portion of the fence.

Poor United States of America

2010-03-18T22:26:03-06:00

Guys, I don't know if you know this, but you are eating chocolate that is vastly inferior to not only European chocolate (you expected that, right?) but also to Canadian chocolate.

When an American friend sent me his favourite chocolate bar (Hershey's Crackle, I think it was) and I threw them out because they were so awful, I thought it was just American Hershey's that was different from Canadian Hershey's. (Sorry, Preston.) I figured it was a one-brand thing.

But tonight Sarah and I went to the video store (I have her saying "store" all the time now instead of "shoppe") and because the franchise is American, the candy and chocolate is from the US, in US packaging. Actually, that's not much of a reason. A lot of things come from the US. But they still have Canadian packaging, with French and English on the front and back. It took me while to figure out what was so weird about this packaging: No French on the front. It's not legal, you know. Sure there was Spanish, but it's only similar to French, not the same thing.

So we got in the van (or "people-carrier", as Sarah would say, and I will never stop making fun of that because how literal is that when they say "a curry" for all Indian food and "pudding" for all desserts... including pudding-- be vague or be specific, UK! OK?) and I popped some Raisinettes into my mouth and the raisins were covered in sweetened candle wax.

And the thing is, I can't eat much right now because the roof of my mouth is inflamed and raw and bloody... for no apparent reason. And so I was hungry. So I was really looking forward to those Raisinettes because they weren't sharp or acidic or salty. I could have saved my money and eaten the broken candle on my fireplace mantle.

I realised that the Turtles were not likely to be better. They were probably American Turtles because the packaging was different. My palette says they were. I didn't know there could be such a thing as a bad Turtle. The generic brand at Shopper's Drug Mart is better than the American Turtle brand.

So, I felt really... sad? confused? that people eat this stuff and like it. I guess it's just what you know.

I'm thinking of starting a Canadian chocolate exporting business. Put your order in with your comments. ;-)

And now we are in our people-container on our people-sleeper about to watch Up in the Air on our people-Internet-enabling-Apple-product.

(Make fun of two powerhouse nations in one bitty blog post... Check!) ;-P

Daily Gratitudes

Jude bought lots of elderflower pressé and it was good for my sick tummy today.
I spent the whole day in bed. I'm not sure how grateful I am about this as I had a headache and was nauseated and really tired all day. But at least I had the luxury of staying in bed.
Sarah made me gluten-free pizza and it was not so bad. I mean, it wasn't Pizza Hut and there was no gluten in it, not surprisingly. Otherwise, it was great.
Sarah was able to get Daisy from school when she threw up and she came to bed with me and didn't throw up in the bed.
Richard J.'s kind comments to me today.

A poem: Two Distances

2010-03-18T13:42:33-06:00

There's a whole world in your head, I know.
You lay on your side, your head propped
in your cradled hand, silent
but I hear the traffic
and mingled languages.

I see you from two distances--
one we can touch and climb over and
one we'll always fail to identify
that flits away when we examine it,
as double-vision.

I can spot a world traveler
because I am one.

Correction: Best song in the universe right now is...

2010-03-14T09:54:52-06:00

I know I said the best song in the universe right now is M79 by Vampire Weekend. It's still soar-y and delightful.

But I didn't want to outplay it so soon, so I started playing Horchata by Vampire Weekend, trying to like it as much as Jude does. I said on Twitter that my favourite line is, "Here comes a feeling you thought you'd forgotten." (Jude's favourite line, too, although "I'd look psychotic in a balaclava" is an obvious close second.)

Someone tweeted back to me to check out this other version by Twintapes. I did. I replied that it was BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL. He replied that it was his band. Show off.

To say I love it would be a sad understatement. Surely I could do better than that, right? So:

Twintapes' cover of Horchata is like sunshine growing in my veins. It's more than a song. It's Tylenol Extra Strength with codeine tossed back with Coke Zero followed by a Swedish massage given by someone who smells like chocolate chip cookies, followed by actually eating chocolate chip cookies and they're gluten free and you'd never know it because this is an alternate universe where such things are possible. It's layers of sounds and those layers build my emotions up to a crescendo not unlike the feeling of climbing a steep hill or mountain then screaming your head off when getting to the top. There's something unique in Pavel's voice, like his tongue isn't just singing but dancing; there's a special rhythm there that you don't usually hear in music and if you did it would probably sound affected but this doesn't.

Watching the video I feel a slight sadness because I can't play guitar like that. Or like anything, to be specific. Imagine if instead of just listening to music you love, you could be in it? I fell asleep last night with fantasies of writing them lyrics.

Guys, I could do the shaker thing. Really. If you're ever in the Edmonton or Calgary region and you need a back up shaker girl, I'm your girl. And I'm pretty sure I could handle whatever Tommy (?) is doing on the keyboard. If all that's required is rhythm, call me.

Daily Gratitudes

New drugs music.
Sunny warm weather.
Losing weight.
Staying in bed.
Warm, lovely, caring people.

Bear my burden, please?

2010-03-12T10:04:47-07:00

My degree of sadness is such that I have reached a place where I can think about everything but how sad I am. Except for the moments the sadness stabs me in the centre of my chest, when trying to go to sleep, when my son plays a song that is so tainted with her, or when I hang out in my Gmail account.

I've never been good at blocking out pain on purpose. My mind keeps things from me until I'm ready to deal with them, yes. I think that's true for everyone. But some people are fabulous at purposely deciding to ignore how they feel. That's not my talent. I so wish it was, but my mom taught me the opposite. She taught me that feelings are everything. (She was wrong, but that's not my point.) She didn't teach me how to do things that are hard.

It seems that I'm only able to block things out when the pain is so ghastly that I'm liable to just give up.

I'm terrified to think about how I feel. I've already spent a week of doing that, without actually confronting myself with the idea that I may never talk with her again ever. And it was a bad week. Now that I know I'll never talk with her again because she promised me so, not that I wanted a forever promise but she thought it best for my own good, now I can't go to that dark place. I've been overcome with racking sobs but I'm trying hard to block everything out.

I knew I loved her, obviously. We all love our friends. I knew I loved her tinged with romantic feelings. (I've even made casual, briefest of references here on my blog.) I thought it not much different than literary girly chaste romances, with idolising and doting and loads of heartfelt caring. You know, like Anne and Diana: "kindred spirits" -type relationships.

But it was eating at me too much, the inequality of it all. I needed relief. So, though I didn't really want to lose her, I suddenly found the courage to. I purposely sent a message I knew could likely lead to our friendship's demise by being argumentative and blunt, while throwing in some humour that I hoped would save me, if that was meant to be. It wasn't meant to be. I knew that already.

So, I erased her online identity from my own online identity, as much as I could. Her photo on my StumbleUpon share app on my Firefox browser bar made me feel like I was swallowing glass. The photo she had just chosen for her Facebook profile photo was beautiful and I knew the hurts and likes and dislikes and hopes and more behind the photo and it felt like I could see them all behind her eyes. I didn't want her to be beautiful or human to me. I wanted to be angry. Because angry is better than heartbroken. Besides, she was wearing accessories I bought her. She was wearing, in a sense, a piece of me. Without being in my life anymore. It didn't seem right.

Spurred on by her absence (and a couple of other contributing factors) I realised with the sort of shock that comes when you realise you've just been in a car accident and the windshield is now through your intestines-- and we all know how that feels-- just how in love with her I actually was. Oops. Suddenly my past confessions on the topic of same-sex attraction seemed so academic in comparison.

It killed me to realise this. I tried so hard to tell myself I could handle it, that I had to work through this or else this situation would keep repeating itself and I knew that I could not handle another situation like this ever again. If I could just shake the cartoon hearts from my eyes, I would have been triumphant! Master of myself, forever! Wha-ha! But... I couldn't do it. I am so angry to admit this. I tried so hard and now what? Was it all a waste? And who am I? I didn't know I felt so strongly, so desperate.

And now I sit in excruciating pain, not sure how to live the rest of my life, not sure how to get what I want without getting what I want, as I do have a marriage and family that I would love to keep.

How do I have the kind of close friendships I want without falling in love with those friends? For me to not have that happen, I have to put up a barrier or they have to put up a barrier and then I don't have the kind of Anne-Diana love-professing, best-friendship that I so need and love and that other women do get to enjoy. I do have one almost-that-way friendship but I haven't met her in person (though we've known each other for 4.5 years) and I soon will be and I'm dreading that a little bit. I don't know that I'll be able to comfortably be in person the way I've been on the phone or in email and I don't want to make her feel awkward because I'm acting differently. I'm afraid that barrier will go up and I'll feel like a starving woman who's battled an obesity issue and I'm in a room with a cake and the only thing that's stopping me from starving is eating that cake and the only thing stopping me from eating that cake is the fear that all my accomplishments-- physical and mental-- with obesity will be erased. It's not the best analogy for a few reasons but it illustrates my apprehension. What if I'm tense and awkward and we're stuck here for days with each other trying to pretend we're not tense and awkward? She would probably laugh and say it's unlikely because we know each other well, but I'm not so sure. Plus, she's a giant and I'm only 5'5. That's going to be so weird.

I have been putting up a barrier with women for years. I cannot comfortably hug most women, for example (though, there are other reasons for why I don't like hugs). And this barrier has left me lonely. I have almost no family and while I have one of the most perfect husbands ever in the world, he's not a woman, can't relate, and there's a cavern between us in part because of the difference in our sexes. I don't have a mommy and sisters like many people do-- far from it.

I'm tired of being lonely. But I have this logistical problem. It was merely a theory before and now I've proven it true.

Now that I've ruined everything, is it possible to learn from my mistakes? For me to do that, I'd have to learn how to squelch, hide, ignore, and deny my feelings. The ideal solution-- simply not having in-love feelings for my best women friends-- is too long term of a goal for me to feel any hope whatsoever. Is the short term solution even possible? I think there are more people who smother feelings than there are people like me. Can that behaviour be taught at all?

Because for the church to say that I have to live with same-sex attractions (which are so much more about relationships and love than sex and I hope that's obvious to readers) for the rest of my life, with no slip-ups, and not kill myself, doesn't feel very doable. What I've concluded is that instead of feeling resolved and uninterested in these types of relationships in the past, I've simply been living in stages of denial and then immense pain, denial, immense pain. Other than being lonely, and depressed and cranky, being in denial is great! In that state I forget how bad the pain was, much like with labour. And much like with Depression when I'm out of it, I believe I'm never going to be in pain again. I think I've conquered things, for the most part. Then something causes a relapse and each time, the pain gets worse. And each time it gets worse, I panic and think about all the ways I could make it go away as soon as possible. Of course it gets worse each time: Each time it comes bubbling to the surface, it brings all the old pain back with it. Then, because the pain gets worse, each time I'm more ready to do something drastic to make it go away.

So, instead of going through the work of fixing this issue, if it's even fixable, (and I've tried), which I am not convinced it is, and because I feel things deeply and at the surface, I would rather trade this problem in for the problem of not having a lot of feelings. I'd rather be, I think, one of those people who can't give much to others because they have smothered so much of their feelings. It may not be a great solution for everyone else around me but it sounds preferable for my state of heart.

So. Why am I sharing this? Because I read this article. And because President Hinckley has said that the members in our church need to be a support to those with gay feelings. But here's a better quote:

“All should understand that persons (and their family members) struggling with the burden of same-sex attraction are in special need of the love and encouragement that is a clear responsibility of church members, who have signified by covenant their willingness to bear one another's burden and so fulfill the law of Christ." -Dallin H. Oaks

I shared a little bit of my feelings about it on my Facebook wall, within the context of an article link, and once I started to get a bit personal, no one replied. I think the topic scares people and that bothers me.

How can members feel supported if no one knows what they're going through? What if I'm not the only one in my ward? (And chances are, I'm not.)

I sat in Relief Society last Sunday full of angst. A woman got up and talked about her daughter having cancer. I thought, It's not fair. Anyone can feel safe to talk about health problems and know they'll receive support and sympathy. I can't stand up and talk about this, though it's not my fault any more than it is her daughter's fault for having cancer. It would make people too uncomfortable. The last thing I need is less love and interaction. Monica asked me what was wrong and I wanted so badly to tell her and have her comfort me. I wanted to not keep my hurts inside just because of fear of rejection. (That's the only thing stopping me from reaching out for support and that's the crappiest, wrongest reason to not reach out. Fear makes me angry. I never want to do anything out of mere stupid fear.)

How can a person feel comfortable saying anything to their LDS friends, family, or church members when the church leaders themselves treat it like an alcohol problem, temper problem, covetous attitude? (Thanks, Oaks.) It's not like ANYTHING else. This blog post comes with a part deux wherein I will explain how difficult it is and how different it is from everything else, so that people who have no idea what it's like can more properly put all the commandments that make it sound so matter-of-fact, into perspective. It's simple when it's not your own problem. (Wait for it.)

In the meantime, how isolating!

Everything I read from church leaders right now makes me feel depressed, hopeless, frustrated, as well as angry about how much they endeavor to discuss without knowing what they're talking about. (Note to church leaders: Leave science out of it. There are no scientific conclusions as you note yourselves, so why attempt to draw conclusions from a lack of conclusions? That's not very logical, is it? Science changes. Remember way back when you told people that gayness could be "cured" and emphasised that over and over because scientific people of the time said it could, too? And now you admit that the attractions may never go away? So, I'm thinking, leave the science and stick to revelation and comforting people, and creating an environment where gay people feel like they CAN be out of the closet and be supported and encouraged with a semblance of understanding, instead of having them feel compelled to leave church despite having testimonies.)

Even worse, the last thing I need right now is doctrine parroted at me by people who have no idea the struggle it is to actually implement that doctrine. And even those who do know the struggle, they don't know the struggle it is for me. I've read it all. I know about all the organisations that attempt to rid people of their gay feelings. I've read the Newsroom article with Wickham and Oaks about six times. I cry every time and promise myself I'll never read it again. Then I end up reading it to find a reference for something I'm writing. I've spent years reading about this. Spare me.

What I need is sheer comfort and compassion and love.

(And music. I need new music, oh boy. Nearly everything that's not already tainted by swine flu, is tainted by her. Nearly all of my iTunes is months' worth of time spent with the woman I love and have loved more than any woman in my life.

Right now, the best song in the universe is M79 by Vampire Weekend. It has that Mary Tyler Moore opening song sound. It has violins! It soars and builds and makes me feel a tinge of hope.

Any other suggestions? Something upbeat and acoustic, preferably.)

Obviously, I no longer mind people knowing more than I need people knowing. I feel so faraway from everyone else. When people don't feel comfortable talking with church members, they will want to seek out those who understand. That has its problems.

If there are church members reading this who are just bursting to pass on the gossip, I would just hope that instead, they would pass on this actual post. Because that would be a sign that you want to be supportive, rather than just gawking. Then it would be my words not your interpretations of my words. I would hope that with my broken heart splayed out awkwardly, it would be harder to judge and easier to support and befriend, which is why I've written this. If it would help to ask me questions, privately, feel free! Also, most of this LDS.org article is worth reading. It explains how to help someone with unwanted same-sex attractions. My favourite part is where it says that you should feel grateful that I'm sharing my burden with you. Ha! That made me feel better.

But, it's probably important for me to explain that my feelings aren't entirely unwanted. I feel no shame for being able to love both men and, more easily, women. There are very good reasons why. Male gay relationships and female gay relationships don't bother me. While other people's minds might go straight to sex, I see people. People who were once children. People who have vulnerabilities and dreams and they want to have someone with whom they can share those intimacies, and for some reason they are more easily able to imagine that kind of intimacy with someone of the same sex. Some people say that homosexuality is not natural when what they really mean is that it's not GODLY. It's a natural behaviour like any other behaviour. The fact that it's been around since the beginning of time, in probably every society, and has only recently even been labeled as an identity, is a sign that it's natural. Some people are grossed out by it but some people are grossed out by oral sex, too. Some people are grossed out by sex entirely. I know of one LDS married couple who thought it was wrong to French kiss each other. People are always squeamish about things they don't relate to, whether sex or food or everything else in the world. That's not evidence that it's messed up, just that it's not easy to relate to.

So, I say "unwanted same-sex attractions" with some trepidation, lest any gay person might be reading this, thinking I'm suggesting that it even should always be unwanted. It's not the attraction that bothers me. I don't think it's shameful or uncommon. It's just the consequences that are unwanted. If I wasn't married or Mormon, I wouldn't be anxious to change anything.

Speaking of being married, you might be wondering about Jude. Well, he's been aware about my feelings all along. I told him before we married, though he couldn't have known what he was getting himself into; I didn't either. He supported my friendship with her. When I almost said goodbye in the past, he encouraged me not to. He understands that my gayishness is not about him. Whether he was here or not, I'd still be me. I am honest and he is sympathetic. We're close. We're faithful. He said to me that no matter what happens, if I left the house for any reason (which I'm not looking to do), he would take care of me. He would never ask me to leave the house, no matter what I might do (which I haven't). He says he was sent here to take care of me and I believe that's true. I'd be lost without him, probably. The point is not that I am thinking of leaving, but that he is the most Christlike man that any of us probably know. He deserves better in some regards, yes. But, I don't deserve this problem either. Anyway, he's doing okay. (I, on the other hand, am a mess, as I edit this now, a day later.)

What I love about Jude and my closest friends with whom I can talk, is that they don't try to make my decisions for me, they don't judge me when I'm confused, they are patient and enduring without fail, they give me a safe place to cry, they only offer advice when I ask for it. (Note to reader: not asking for it. Advice comments will be deleted because I'm not in a place to have faith in or energy for advice right now. Later I might be, but right now-- deaf ears.)

What I need right now: Compassion, patience, community.

(Okay. After three days and prayer, I'm posting this. No need to be nice. That way I know which houses to vandalise with eggs and toilet paper.) (That was a joke.) (Probably.)

Daily Gratitudes

Two friends offered book suggestions, saying that it would help me deal with loss. I trust books and I trust these friends.
I've never felt more loved by God than I have in this past year.
I haven't really had to deal with being a mom-caretaker through this, with our nanny here.
My kids make me laugh.
Have I mentioned my new MacBook Pro? Oh, baby.

Absurd article on Meridian.com about the evils of Facebook

2010-03-05T21:29:47-07:00

Surfing Meridian.com today, I was surprised that they, a mainstream Mormon online magazine, would find this article by JeaNette G. Smith worthy to publish. And apparently, so were many readers who wrote in to complain about the article. A part of Meridian's response to the complaints was,

"Meridian writers are accomplished writers, experts in their field. We are always awed and amazed by the quality of our content. These articles are gifts from the writers, born out of diligent study and years of experience."

*choke*

Okay, Meridian, if you say so. "Awed and amazed"? Strong words.

The magazine says they won't publish responses that attack the writer (I'm guessing it wouldn't take much to have them decide the responses are personal attacks). But, since they published this absurd critique, they have sent the message that they will support writers who indignantly attack a large portion of the population and encourage judgmental assumptions. As well as supporting writing that lacks statistics and reasoning that would bolster Ms. Smith's possibly offensive assertion (if one wanted to take it personally).

If Meridian wants to publish vent-y, judgmental, exaggerating opinion pieces, then they should at least drop the guise, when people write in to complain, that the opinion-giver's blather is born of "diligent study and years of experience". They should drop the guise that they're publishing some high-caliber writing. Anyone can write an opinion piece without any references-- that's called blogging. (Although, good blogging is not defined by a lack of research and references, of course.)

Okay, so, I'll take a similar indignant approach. (Because I'm having an angsty life dilemma bad week and I'm transferring my frustration.)

First of all, contrary to Meridian's defensive claim, Ms. Smith is not an expert on Facebook, or sociology, if her listed credentials are any indication. She might be an expert on family therapy but she's not writing about that, is she? Meridian might want to focus on finding experts who are relevant to future articles.

Now, let's take a look at some of Ms. Smith's useless exaggerations:

"Facebook was essential to being part of the “in” crowd, a great way to “dis” the unwanted and to “hook-up” illicitly. Like the Internet in general, a tool that can be used for tremendous good, can also be used for tremendous bad.

I first became concerned when I noticed Facebook was too often used as a popularity contest. It was often an arrogant, self-aggrandizing way to keep track of your own fan club. People post pictures in order to “brag” about how cool their life is, what original things they do with their weekends, what exotic places they go on their vacations. They want to be admired, perhaps even envied."

(It's humourous that she starts her opinion piece by admitting that Facebook can be used for "tremendous" good, then she spends nearly all of her word count on demonising it, then the one example she gives for how it can "have its functions" is that she couldn't find a book she needed for a book club and when her sister mentioned this on Facebook, within two hours she had located a copy. Balanced commentary, no?)

I didn't notice "telepathy" listed in her credentials. How does she manage to know the intentions of Facebook users? How does she know that the intention of some photographs is to brag? "They want to be admired, perhaps even envied." (Emphasis added.) So, it's a fact that they want to be admired but she's being so humble as to admit that she doesn't know for sure if they want to be envied as well?

I swear that it has never occurred to me that my Facebook friends are posting photos in order to brag. I define "bragging" as an act of boasting intended to arouse jealousy. I don't assume that my beautiful friends post photos of themselves to brag about their beauty while attributing a more saintly reason to my less-beautiful friends, just because they're less beautiful. Likewise, I don't assume that photos from "exotic" locales are photos intended to brag while photos of camping trips are innocent. I don't assume that because the news or photos that someone wants to share is great, that their intention is not. That would be illogical and unfair. News is news and the perception of that news is the choice of the reader or viewer.

Perhaps my friends do want to be admired for their cake decorating abilities or their motorcycle-fixing abilities but so what? Is there no chance that Ms. Smith wanted to be admired for her opinion piece? Everyone wants to be admired. I am happy to gush over my friends' cake-making abilities. If that's what they need, what's stopping me from giving it, if I love them? Pride? That doesn't seem like a good reason to withhold. If I'm not willing to admire them openly, why are they my friends?

I have one friend who posts gorgeous photos of exotic travels. She also happens to be gorgeous herself, with a pretty great-looking husband, and a terribly cute little boy. I did catch myself envying her once, for her travels and seemingly perfect, creamy skin. I allowed myself all of a few minutes to envy her and I didn't let that envy spur me to assume the worst about her intentions. Why shouldn't she post photos of her travels? I enjoyed looking at them! Why shouldn't she post photo after photo of her gorgeous kid? He's gorgeous! She's proud of him! My gosh, it's not her fault. I'm genuinely happy for her. I haven't seen her in person for many years but I've never known her to be anything but lovely, otherwise, why would I keep her on my friends list? Certainly not to criticise her. Besides all that, it turns out that she has a terrible case of Crohn's disease and has had to endure some awful operations, and she shared this on Facebook. Should I assume that she shared that just to arouse sympathy and free casseroles? For goodness sake! Maybe people like my friend are trying to focus on the positive in the midst of great struggles. If she only posted negative things, I have a feeling that Ms. Smith would have some colourful interpretation of that, too. Perhaps we should all post one dated profile photo of ourselves, add the most boring and neutral status updates, and never say another word? Or should we keep a white board handy for careful score of our complaints-to-rejoicings ratio?

More fabulous quotes:

"People who post every detail of their life so that 400 fans can ogle them remind me of a small-time celebrity appeasing his fan club.

In contrast, does the person with 400 friends actually visit the pages of all those friends? If he does, I’ll bet you it’s to make comparisons. He wants to see if any of other 400 friends has as amazing a life, or as hot a girlfriend, or as fancy a car. Too often the life of the Facebook user isn’t inherently satisfying. It’s only satisfying if it is superior to someone else’s life."

People who criticise social media sites like Facebook and Twitter allllways exaggerate about users posting "every detail" of their lives. Very unoriginal choice of words. It's so much more time-consuming to gather specifics and cite examples and if she did so, she might have suffered embarrassment to realise she was really only talking about 10% of users, and that's probably a generous estimate.

And since she's criticising users for having as many as 400 friends, I think it's safe to assume that she does not have this many Facebook friends herself? So, is she summing up Facebook and judging users based on a pool of 100 people? 200? Or does she snoop through the pages of friends of friends to expand her pool to 250? If so, why? What's her reason for analysing the habits of other Facebook users? To judge them, or enjoy them? Why maintain so many friends you think so little of, anyway?

"Too often the life of the Facebook user isn't inherently satisfying." Beautiful, non-scientific, non-revelatory exaggeration. How would she know this? "Too often" my life before Facebook wasn't satisfying either. My life before the internet was even less satisfying. Using her "reasoning", I'm going to blame the absence of the internet for my unsatisfying past life. THANK YOU, AL GORE, FOR INVENTING THE INTERNET. Phewf!

Ms. Smith goes on to say,

"One of my friends was in the habit of accepting anyone who sent a friend-request. Some of my more voyeuristic clients found ways to stalk me through her Facebook site. One client would ask me about trips I had taken when I had never even told him that I was traveling. It was totally creepy."

Perhaps it is here that we get at the real problem behind the problem. Is this really displaced frustration? Is she attacking Facebook because she felt embarrassed when she realised that she didn't know how to use it to make all of her photos and info private to non-friends? Why was it creepy that her client asked her about her trip? Did he close the question by saying, "F-f-f-fava beans"? Isn't it only natural for a client of a therapist to want to know something about the therapist? And maybe the client assumed that since Ms. Smith didn't take advantage of her privacy settings that she didn't mind the whole world knowing about her goings-on. And maybe he was just making conversation.

Use your privacy settings, people. If it's available to look at on Facebook, most people will. Just like how you check out people walking their dogs when you drive down the street; just like how you listen in on conversations near to you in large open settings. Everyone's curiosity gets the best of them from time to time, I'm guessing. (See how I qualified the generalisation with "I'm guessing"?)

"Why does anyone need to keep in touch with 400 people that they hardly ever see, people they would never go out of their way to contact, were it not as easy as it is on Facebook? ....He probably doesn’t even have their phone number or their snail-mail address. Most of these 400 people the Facebook user would not think of calling to inform of his father’s death, yet they will show up at the funeral because they found out about it on Facebook. Facebook makes all friends equal and therefore no one is truly special."

It's a new generation, Ms. Smith. I know that it's so hard to not judge the rising generation for doing things differently than you did and therefore the wrong way. Personally, I think it's sad that young people don't know how to read handwriting or an analog clock. But if there's no compelling, logical reason to maintain the status quo, if the new way of doing something works just as well if not better, find a bingo hall and commiserate with the people there. In fact, when you suggest that 400 people will show up at a funeral because they learned about it on Facebook, I would say you made my case for me-- Facebook is a more efficient way to accomplish the same thing! If people I don't know very well show up at my father's funeral, I would count that as a lovely example of how Facebook can inspire unity and compassion, since most people don't attend funerals for the barrel of laughs and door prizes.

I think Ms. Smith almost makes a good point when she says,

"If my daughter-in-law emails me photos of my grandbaby I know she wants me, personally, to see those pictures. She is sharing something special to her because I am special to her. It says something about our relationship. If she posts those pictures on Facebook for anyone and everyone to see, I am in no way honored. Does she care about me? Does she care if I celebrate with her? Not anymore than the other 399 people who get to see the photos. It’s possible to discriminate and post photos for only certain people to see, but does anybody?"

I have experienced a similar pang of sadness when one of my closest friends didn't tell me first about some exciting news that I had been privately encouraging her about, but announced it through her Facebook status. But really, it was that she had stopped showing me in other ways that I was special to her that really bothered me. If Ms. Smith's daughter-in-law also sends private messages and phones her, that's how she knows she's special. If she spends her time on Facebook on Ms. Smith's profile, commenting on things Ms. Smith posts, that is another way Ms. Smith could know she's special.

If a loved one uses public Facebook conveniences as her sole link between you and she, I agree, she probably doesn't want to talk to you as much as she does with others, she doesn't want to make time for you, and that sucks. But to say that all friends are equal just because Facebook arranges them so is just stupid. Besides if anyone feels that insecure about their hierarchy, there's an app for that, too!

As for setting up albums so that only certain people can see the photos, yes, people do that. I do that. So do some of my friends.

And I'm not going to email photos to individual people, one-at-a-time. I might do that for the odd person who feels insecure if I don't, if I love them and know that this makes them feel loved, but really, I don't have the desire to make time for 90s technology when I have more sensible technology that doesn't suck my life away. When it works, iPhoto's Facebook uploader is genius, and then lots of loved ones can see our photos, instead of just a few. While Ms. Smith might want me to have a smaller circle of intimates because it makes her feel more special, I like my larger circle because I like them. I see no sense in limiting a circle of intimacy just for the sake of limiting it.

Ms. Smith says that Facebook can "cause tremendous offense". (Emphasis added.) I say that people can opt to take tremendous offense. (Don't make me quote church leaders now.)

She says it can cause offense if you turn down a friend request. Real life can do that too. What about church activities where parents are not allowed to bring their kids? What about baby showers where men are not invited? What about child's birthday parties? To borrow from NRAites: Facebook doesn't offend people, people offend people... (when those people take it personally... when no personal offense may have been intended). (Okay, so I took some license with that.)

Lastly, my favourite part of Ms. Smith's rant is when she discredits her professionalism as a therapist:

"Of even greater concern is the ease of “hooking up” via Facebook. I was outraged when some of my psychotherapy clients started pursuing romantic relationships with old flames they had become re-acquainted with on Facebook. I sat dumbfounded across the couch from an LDS mother of five as she described how she was no longer in love with her husband, but passionately in love with a boy she hadn’t seen since 11th grade. This woman had actually had served a mission and had a strong testimony of the gospel!"

Holy canoli! If I wanted to be judged and cause outrage, why, I'd go to... to... Facebook for that! I didn't have to provide my husband with the appropriate response to this paragraph for him to say it: "It's not a therapist's job to judge. It's their job to help."

Yes, Facebook makes it easy to get in touch with old flames, but unhappiness is what makes it easy to have an affair with them. People can have an affair with someone they connect with at church, or another parent at the park, or their regular bus driver. Again, it's not Facebook's fault. People need to use prudence on Facebook as well as... every other arena in life.

And yes, even returned missionaries can make poor choices! Even people with a testimony of the gospel can be desperately unhappy! If the client is voluntarily in therapy, she probably knows she has problems. Why choose outrage over compassion? I'm much more likely to take counsel from someone I feel loves me and feels compassion for my pain, than someone who can't relate and preaches at me. I would think that someone with a career in psychology would be aware of that psychological phenomenon. There's probably a technical name for it. Something like... The Power of Charity.

My favourite sentence from this whole piece sums up the critical thinking:

"It is easy to conclude that adults, particularly married adults, have no business spending time on Facebook."

Hee hee! Well. Haven't we been told? First she criticises Facebook for being a tool for illicit hook-ups, then she takes it away from adults, especially married adults, with the inference being that single youth do have business there. Which is the point that she's trying to emphasise-- that single youth have permission to be tacky and immoral, or that all married people are suspicious because it's not possible for Facebook to be anything but seedy?

Bravo, Meridian. And I didn't even challenge your claim of "accomplished writing" by picking on grammatical errors. That would just seem petty.

Daily Gratitudes

Jude was in Edmonton yesterday and went to Planet Organics and ordered a crate of Bottle Green's sparkling elderflower pressé for me, because it always sells out (because it's divine). We don't live close to Edmonton. But when it comes in, he will drive there to get it, his idea. I know, right?
The weather is soooo warm and the snow is soooo melting. Whee!
Watched Dear John with Sarah last night. Was nice to get out.
I still have 21 more days of having a nanny. Anyone want to volunteer to replace her for the next 14 years? *sigh*
My physiotheraphy-- IMS, which is when thin wires are put into your muscles and sometimes moved around-- is working a bit. Hurts sometimes like electrocution to my nerves and bones, but it's working.

CMB: The Canadian women's hockey players drinking/smoking "scandal"

2010-02-28T15:13:42-07:00

Let it first be known that I am Mormon and as such don't drink alcohol or smoke cigarettes or cigars. I don't personally identify with celebration by way of boozing and smoking.

Despite my bias, I think the offense that's being taken over a few players on the Canadian women's hockey team drinking and smoking on the Olympic ice after hours is an overreaction.

The story appears to be dying out in the media, but Facebook friends and acquaintances are still reactionary. One Facebook friend used the words "disgusted" and "stupid".

I'd like to make some quick points:

Celebration by boozing is more than just a Canadian past time, it's a worldwide ritual.
The players were likely exhausted.
They were likely still high on adrenaline.
They are young and naturally in a post-win self-absorbed state of mind.
This was their off-time.
The arena was near empty. It possibly did not occur to them to analyse the last few people left to see if they appeared to be of the media.
I've read no mention of coaches being present or near.

This is an original Canada Moms Blog post and I cannot repost it in full. To continue reading, please click here.

Daily Gratitudes

My lovely friend and nanny, Sarah.
I applied to college with the intention of completing a 4-year B.A. in English.
Jude bought me a new MacBook Pro for college.
The weather has been very warm. I'm so anxious for Spring. I am my worst self in February, this year only better because of Sarah's presence.
I am getting slimmer and a bit stronger and hopefully healthier.

Deconstruction of a joke that was never made; OR, How I say good morning

2010-02-12T10:42:20-07:00

"Anyway, I just wanted to say good morning and I hope you slept well and I hope it's sunny [where you are] today and I'm thinking of you and the tip of my left shoulder aches for no apparent reason at all."

She said this in email and I laughed. But I think she thought, in my reply, that I was laughing at another small inside joke. And I was. I was chuckling inwardly at the tiny double entendre I made of her small inside joke.

Begin Gmail chat.

Me: It was the line about your shoulder that made me laugh.

Ann: Dang

"and my shoulder aches" just doesn't work as a sign-off

although I'm glad that made you laugh
that WAS the point

Me: Oh, ACHES
Oh, darn, Ann.
I thought it said "arches"

Ann: did I typo it?

Me: I thought you were being funny.
And now I know you weren't being funny at all

Ann: well, I was and I wasn't

just not the way you thought

Me: slightly funny. it's funnier when the comment has no reason for its existence.

Ann: I was being funny because it was an unexpected addition to my list of morning greetings

Me: right

Ann: okay

Me: a bit of a non sequitur
But think of how much funnier it is to say: "and the tip of my left shoulder arches for no reason at all"

For one thing:

don't both shoulders do this?
why only mention the left?
And the very tip: How DO you find the tip of a round part?
Can an arch have a tip?

Ann: well, yes, I can see how that would be MUCH funnier

Me: Secondly: it probably does arch for a reason

and you are merely ignorant to that reason

and prideful enough to think that your ignorance is the map and compass of Sensibility

Ann: LOL

Me: then there's the uncalled-for-ness

why say this now about your shoulder?

that would be the obviously funny part
but because I am the clever sort
I don't go to the most obvious first when I laugh

or maybe I did and it was so obvious that it brushed past my consciousness, my funny bone, ever so quick, so I could continue on to the meat of the joke.

Ann: you are making me truly laugh out loud
I think this should be a blog post. Seriously. Your deconstruction of the joke you thought I made.

Please, do.

transcribe it to your blog

Best laid plans....

2010-02-11T12:38:28-07:00

A couple of people have asked how that book is going, and reading too. About that.

I've run into a new health problem that will need surgery.

I've also been prompted to try eating gluten-free for a while to see if that alleviates my anemia and hair loss. *sigh*

Eating gluten-free is a gigantic hassle, if you can't already imagine. I can't even eat oatmeal. I just bought some organic steel cut oats I was looking forward to trying! Man! I can't make spanakopita with phyllo pastry. *slight wimper*

I've also felt compelled to try food combining again.

I used to live on a very strict diet and it wasn't a big deal. I didn't mind. But that was pre-kids. I don't even like to bake like a normal person never mind experimenting with tapioca and sorghum and hating the result. Yes, you can just buy ready-made gluten-free bread and such in the grocery store and some things are not bad but some are evil:

These supposedly amazing wraps fell apart withing seconds AND tasted like the desert.

So, anyway, I have not been writing or reading anything other than health-related articles. I'm bogged down with appointments with a physiotherapist, doctors, chiropractor, and a friend who does something with energy and moving organs around. I don't know what it is and don't care because it feels good and is dirt cheap.

Back to basics. So much for plans. ;-)

Daily Gratitudes

Sarah's cheerful help.
Two sunny days in a row. If Mother Nature's not careful, I just might get energetic.
A passionate, caring physiotherapist.
Expertise of friends, ever helpful. Bless.
Technology.

Pondering addictions and excommunication and salvation updated

2010-02-02T20:34:09-07:00

I am writing this from the local library on a computer whose interface makes me feel like I'm in 1995. I'm on some proprietary browser and everything is extra-large. Hi, people-behind-me-who-might-be-reading-everything-I-write. How are you today?

For family scripture study this morning, Jude chose a scripture that had something to do with patience. I'm trying to remember the gist of the scripture as I type within the confines of 1995.

I should be working on my book, 'Becca tells me. But I need some warm-up time. I'm not used to this childless freedom and I'm too hyper inside to settle down to purposefulness. As well, this book on addiction is just something I need to read right now.

* * *

Hey, remember when I mentioned I'm reading a book about addiction? About that: Ouch. What a sad read. With the people I've known, the stories I've read, the experiences I've had, and the things that Jude goes through in his work, I'm not easy to shock. But a couple of the stories in this book shocked me. It's astounding at how destructive people can be whilst aware of and loathing their destructive behaviour. Or more commonly, people are caught in spells of motion, in disassociated states.

I already knew that people are prone to addictive behaviours to block out trauma. However, it's news to me that people also seek out behaviours in order to feel their trauma. Isn't that interesting?

In order for recovery from trauma to occur, people need to access their fear and release it. Unfortunately, while we instinctively seek to be freed from our fear, while a primal part of our consciousness seeks healing, we don't actually know how to achieve our goal. So we try out different methods:

alcohol
drugs
sex
love
food
gambling
distraction
obsession

I would think that most people attempt to be freed from trauma by running away from it via one of the above methods. However, some people try to recreate it, hoping for a different ending. I don't understand how this would relate to (for example) a pedophile acting out things that were done to him as a child. I wonder about the cognitive process that takes place in that situation....

The book I'm reading says, "Chronically overwhelmed with emotions, trauma victims have lost their ability to use emotions as guides to figure out what they need, let alone figure out how to get the need met."

As I've been reading I've been thinking of people I know who have done odd things, things that other people find easy to judge, and my heart is broken for the pain that I know must be embedded within; I wonder if they even have access to it. One thing I've learned from personal experience is that a single trauma can affect a person for years because they are not able to feel and manage the pain all at once; it leaks out in little bits throughout their lives. That's the way it has to happen but it's tragic because it means that just when a person thinks she is healed, she is ready for another hit of pain to manage. If the pain is dealt with in a healthy way, it gets easier each time. If pain is dealt with in an unhealthy way, it gets more and more difficult to feel or block the pain until it all comes to a head.

I find it most frustrating that despite knowing as much about my pain, problems, and behaviour as any psychologist has been able to infer, I still go about dealing with the pain in unhealthy ways. I know just as well as anyone what is healthy and what is unhealthy. I'm not doe-eyed; I'm overwhelmed with emotion. Pain is... painful. And unless masochism is a hobby, most people seek the first exit off Torture Highway.

Everyone does this. We all seek refuge from our emotions from time to time. Many, many people do this through food and because it's such a common experience, people feel like they can talk openly about their unhealthy noshing, and even joke about it. "I'm 300 lbs and slowing killing myself though it worries or outright scares the people who love me and interferes with how I interact with people and helps determine the activities I'm able to do but [insert joke about food or being fat here], ha ha ha this is your cue to laugh with me because you identify with this common problem." And people do laugh back at the fat jokester because being addicted to food is not as shocking or pitiable as alcohol, drugs, or the internet, even though it is destructive.

Yet, when we learn about a shocking sex scandal our first reaction is disgust and judgment, and we have no qualms about vocalising these reactions. Why is it funny to joke about food addiction or internet addiction but if Tiger Woods sleeps with a town-full of women we feel comfortable judging him? He can't be really happy or at peace with this behaviour. There must be some dysfunctional self-regard that drives his compulsion.

The only thing that makes an obese over-eater different from someone with a sex addiction is chance. (I could write an essay on that sentence but I'm going to move along here and expound upon that only if anyone wants to argue with my assertion.)

* * *

Of all the destructive things that people do, all the stupid things, all the outbursts, I think we'd be hard-pressed to find pure selfishness as the root of the problems. Sure, people are selfish, but why? It's never as simple as "I chose my pleasure over your pain because I don't see anything wrong with that or I don't care". Never. Even when someone is a sociopath or psychopath, there are good reasons for that. Is it possible that these are brain disorders brought about by neglect or abuse and there will be more forgiveness for people with these brain disorders than there will be for the people who judge them?

I wonder about Judgment Day. Sometimes I get the feeling that some people view things like our coming to earth, God's commandments, and excommunication mainly as a test or filtering process of Good Guys and Bad Guys. Like God made these spirit children and then he wanted to know which were the really good ones and which were the not-so-good ones.

I can't wrap my mind around this idea that God sent us here mainly to test our faith. It's ridiculous. Think about it: We sat (or stood, lounged, did jumping jacks) up in heaven, discussed our plans for mortality and we agreed to take on relationships and responsibilities that we really knew nothing about. (We had no idea how painful this life would be, so how relevant is it that we chose it? It's like asking a child if they want to do a calculus assignment so they can receive a lollipop after-- what do you think they're going to say? Even those spirits who chose Lucifer's plan over Jehovah's wanted to come to earth. We all did. We just disagreed on the terms.)

Then, God removed all of our premortal living from our remembrance. We got sent to parents who barely qualified to raise plants, or, at the very least, were flawed humans who didn't meet all our needs to help us grow up perfectly without any neuroses (because no parents are perfect); we suffered pain and humiliation; we were submersed in a thousand distractions both important and not; we were forced into time, space, and non-telepathic communication, all unnatural to our eternal spiritual beings. Then, if we fail to uphold our covenants-- covenants we make with more desire to keep than raw ability to keep, covenants we make without really knowing what we're getting into, without knowing how difficult the future will be, trusting that we will want our eternal reward even if right now it doesn't sound all that desirable (possibly)-- that's it? We failed the test? God allows thousands of obstacles to litter our path and then when we give up, we don't love him enough or we didn't have enough faith? It's just that simple?

One could argue that if people fail to keep their covenants it's simply because they weren't reading their scriptures prayerfully and they weren't praying, yadda yadda, but,

with all the people who have been disfellowshipped and excommunicated I'm skeptical that every single one of them was not reading their scriptures and praying, and
some people are just really, really damaged, period: even whilst doing the things they're supposed to be doing, they can be doing things they're not supposed to be doing because their dysfunctionality simply overrides their desire to be spiritual and obedient.

We're told that the Lord won't tempt us more than we can bear but the reality is that we ALL, at some point, lack enough faith to believe in that. And what counts as a temptation, anyway? Everything that is difficult? And what does "bear" mean, exactly? I've never met one person whose only sinning came from not knowing what was right. We all do things we shouldn't do, knowing we shouldn't do them, so if that doesn't prove that by giving us this existence and allowing free will to have reign that God has given us more than we can bear at times, then it at least brings the meanings of "tempt" and "bear" into question. Everyone knows what it's like to give up on something and, whether large or small, I'm not sure that the thought process to giving up differs between people. So, if we all give up on something, how can we judge that which our brothers and sisters choose to give up on? I would think that when people give up on something big and difficult -- like striving for a temple marriage when you feel as gay as a blue Spring day -- that it should be easier to understand and forgive than when someone gives up on something smaller and easier, like reading scriptures everyday.

Is it possible that God's understanding is greater for some of the bigger sins we might commit? I don't mean that he'll be more lenient -- because consequences are for our own benefit -- merely, compassionate, understanding, sympathetic.

That said, we are told that Christ is merciful. I think of my uncle who molested me and think of his abusive upbringing and I feel forgiveness and mercy for him, wanting him to receive the same reward I might one day receive if all goes well. And I'm just a mortal with pride issues and a limited view of my uncle's life and no insight into his heart and mind. So imagine how much more merciful Christ will be, he who knows exactly how my uncle felt, he who knows the limitations of his understanding and intelligence. If I would be willing to let my uncle into heaven if he wanted to be there, why wouldn't Christ?

I do believe that there is a strait (straight) and narrow pathway to heaven. However, I don't believe that even those of us who know all the motions required will need to reach the end of that narrow pathway in this life. I don't believe that the teachings and strivings and choices available in the spirit world are for non-LDS people only. I don't believe that even dying in a state of excommunication is the end. I used to think that and I don't know why. Maybe because of the scripture that whatever is bound or loosed on earth is also done so in heaven?

However, what does that mean, really? It's in reference to the power of the priesthood but even the power of the priesthood given to men does not supercede the power of God, or the power of the Holy Ghost. Ordinances have been performed by unworthy priesthood holders without needing redoing because it's the Holy Ghost that witnesses to it and sanctifies it. Surely, excommunications have taken place because the letter of the law pointed clearly to that conclusion while the priesthood leaders did not know the heart of the matter because maybe the person being excommunicated didn't even know.

Our leaders work with the best information they have, not always having all the relevant information. We don't always have all of the relevant information for why we do the things we do.

So, of course, the Lord has the last say. And thank goodness because I trust him completely.

This is all leading to my belief that the main reason we came to earth was not to be tested to prove that we really, really love God, but to fill the measure of our creation, become wise and experienced, and to truly know love and compassion. God doesn't need us to prove that we love Him. He already knows that we do and those who act like they don't have just forgotten that they do. One day they will remember all, and whether they are with Him or not they will love Him and want to be with Him. I'm not so sure that He needs us to prove by our actions that we're good, either. Our actions could signify much or very little. Only He knows our hearts.

We come here clouded in forgetfulness and sometimes shrouded in misery. Then, even when we think we've connected all the dots in our own lives or the lives of others, between stimuli and response, we miss some. We might make huge mistakes. But they're not necessarily the end of our stories.

All these commandments are less about testing and more instructions on how to be happy, healthy and strong, and how to not hurt each other. Is it possible that the Mormon sound bite that we came to earth to receive bodies and to be tested and tried refers not to testing by way of being under trial with one of two results at the end, but rather assessment and identification? One can be assessed without that assessment being the actual pass/fail test.

I just don't see Christ saying to us, "Erm, sorry. We added up your results and you failed the test." Like C.S. Lewis says, the doors to hell are locked from the inside. If this is true, then the doors to heaven must be open wide and we won't go in only if we choose not to. We'll be given many chances to choose to because Christ and Heavenly Father want us there. Their arms are open wide.

There are many mansions in our father's kingdom, the scriptures say. The path to exaltation, the highest degree of glory in the Celestial Kingdom might be narrow, but there are other degrees to be found where there will be learning and growth and love and joy and I believe that some of the people who will be there will be starting out with only the ability to want to be there and the discipline of being perfect will come in graduations. It only makes sense.

I don't believe that God's predominant personality trait is vengeance. I don't believe that he judges us as harshly as we judge ourselves or each other.

(I don't have a sex addiction in case you were wondering. But if I did, that would be okay because it would just be where I was at, and probably for good reason. Our spiritual ailments matter less than what we're doing to overcome them. Even baby steps is good enough.)

(Katie thought this was a weird and out-of-context comment. I just thought that this is what I would speculate if I read a post like this. Also, I thought it would sound funny, which, of course, it doesn't because it's out of context.)

Daily Gratitudes

Sarah our temp nanny. She is funny and a go-getter and fabulous with our kids. And it's so much fun to copy each other's accents.
The opportunity to remember what it's like to sit in a library for hours just to read, research, write and to not be responsible for anyone. I remembered being a student and I missed it. And I came home feeling so much more patient with my kids, and when Daisy asked me to sleep with her in my bed I didn't feel like she was tearing me away from my writing. I wanted to be with her to cuddle. I usually don't at the end of the day.
Jude making me laugh via email and Twitter.
A nice gospel discussion with my friend Ron.
New friends.

Verdict: The Happiness Project actually was depressing

2010-01-25T16:23:55-07:00

A short while ago I started a blog post by saying that I was depressed about the book The Happiness Project. I felt that I knew what the book was about and that I could have written it but now that it was written by someone else, my idea for a self-help book was taken. I said I was "depressed" as a humourous play upon the title of the book -- it seems counter-intuitive that a book about happiness would make someone depressed, right?

Except now that I have finished reading the book, the joke's on me: I actually am depressed about it. It was a sad read, in parts, because it was abundantly clear to me that the author doesn't really understand the secret of happiness. I don't feel like the book came to any conclusions on how to be happy in a lasting way. I think the book managed to get published because she was already a published author, so she had connections, and because the publishers were cashing in on what author Gretchen Rubin mentions as "stunt genre journalism", in this case, doing something for a year and then writing about it.

Before I delve into my criticisms, the book was not without merit. There are little nuggets of inspiration, like when Gretchen drastically improves her drawing ability by taking a class that gave her profound anxiety. I would be surprised if anyone could read The Happiness Project without feeling inspired to go outside her comfort zone and do something new.

But the inspiration ended there.

Basically, Gretchen wants to be happier. Her husband doesn't understand why she wants to be happier because she seems happy to him but it becomes clear before long, as she describes many insufferable habits and traits of her own, that she's not really happy.

So, instead of digging deep, getting at the root of her issues, she makes monthly theme resolutions, travelling the surface streets of why she's obnoxious, putting a superficial band-aid on her flaws.

This is not a book to read if you're looking to identify with someone else's unhappiness to have a "light bulb moment" about your own, unless you really are so uncomplicated and flawless that your only source of unhappiness is not enough extra-curricular busyness in your life, in which case you don't need to read a book to solve that problem. If she were relaying her poor behaviour so that she could follow it up with an explanation of the root reason for her behaviour and what she realised about herself and how that realisation changed her, then this book would be a worthwhile pursuit. Instead, it reads like a confessional journal, a list of sins and the penance that followed, and the lack of profundity made me sad. I felt uncomfortable for her knowing that this self-flagellation was not bringing her any lasting insight into why she was unhappy with herself.

For example, on page 266 she starts,

"... I realized I had one particular characteristic that I urgently needed to control: I was too belligerent. The minute someone made a statement, I looked for ways to contradict it. When someone happened to say to me, 'Over the next fifty years, it's the relationship with China that will be most important to the United States,' I started searching my mind to think of counterexamples. Why? ....I know very little about the subject."

She goes on to say that criticizing is "deliciously satisfying", that it made her feel more sophisticated and intelligent. She describes herself as a "know-it-all" who strives to drop literary observations to appear intelligent, a "topper" who tops other people's stories with a bigger and better one, and a "deflater" who finds something negative to say about things that other people were excited about.

On page 269 she describes the difficulty she had with trying to squelch her inclinations,

"Giving positive reviews requires humility. I have to admit, I missed the feelings of superiority that I got from using puncturing humor, sarcasm, ironic asides, cynical comments, and cutting remarks. A willingness to be pleased requires modesty and even innocence -- easy to deride as mawkish and sentimental."

On page 272 she describes a situation where her daughter is throwing up and she asks her husband to get a towel. He brings the towel and she says, "Folks, that was not the fastest action we could have had." She then asks why she tossed out that negative comment, but doesn't give the answer.

Answering the whys proves difficult for her throughout the book. She's able to narrow behaviour down as being prideful (and I admire her for her frankness) but she doesn't analyse the source of the pride.

So, without really knowing (or divulging) the source of her problems, she decides that to fix these character flaws she will give up drinking because it enables her belligerence, and she will force herself to be like Pollyanna for a week, including wearing a bracelet to remind her to remember about "Pollyanna Week". Pollyanna Week succeeds in cutting down her negative comments for that week and has "lasting effects" later, which she doesn't describe. I immediately noted the irony in going about being less negative by... negative reinforcement. "Stop saying negative things." That's not a positive approach. It's like trying to lose weight by saying, "I hate being fat. I'm going to stop being fat," instead of "I miss feeling thin and I'm going to be thin again."

(And besides, my theory is that the people around us will well tolerate our negative attributes if there are simply more positive ones than negative. Everyone is negative sometimes. We don't need to zip our mouths and be as perfect as impossible. We just need to be more positive than negative. If we're enthusiastic a lot of the time, people will forgive us for being critical some of the time. If we are frequently celebratory of our friends' successes and interests, people will better tolerate when we indulge in self-absorption for a while.)

Why didn't she just work on being more loving? Because, by her own assertion, it was "vague" as well as being harder to fake. Negative comments were easier for her to spot and measure. It's easier to stop doing something bad than to start doing something good, but... if you can succeed in being more good (instead of merely acting more good), then you have a more lasting change than the one you have by merely willing yourself to stop being bad.

As well, giving up drinking and getting more sleep is great, but not everyone who drinks or is tired is belligerent. Why is she this way under the influence when some other people are silly and more gregarious when they're boozy or tired? She doesn't ask that question.

It seems to me that the source of many of her problems is basic insecurity. She resolves early on to "Be Gretchen" and throughout the book when she runs up against insecurities, the insecurities are solved by her mantra to "Be Gretchen". So, the lesson here for the reader, when having troubles with insecurities: Be yourself. Problem solved. Why didn't you think of that, Reader?

At one point (and I can't find the page) she asks "Why?" about her behaviour and then says she has no idea.

Finally, she admits that her Happiness Project made her more judgmental of others for not being happy.

I wonder if she would have had the discipline to keep up with all her resolutions, if she would have challenged herself to take a drawing class that gave her panicky anxiety if she was not doing it for book fodder. Without the resolutions, there would be no story to tell, really, so it seems that the book is in existence for the book's sake.

The strange thing is that she's obviously a very intelligent woman who seems introspective enough that I do believe she is capable of getting to the heart of the matter of her problems, of asking the important questions and getting real answers. I just don't understand why she didn't do it for the book. I guess it just wasn't the style of book she was looking to write or HarperCollins was looking to publish?

Further, what made me sad was reading of Gretchen's struggle to love herself and others in a pure, unshakable way that comes from God and comes from a deep-seated knowledge of the value of another soul. She describes her life as having been fairly easy, her childhood being happy, and she even sounds insecure about that in about three places where she wishes she had hardship to draw on to give herself "legitimacy". I suspect that her happy upbringing is why she struggles to have true compassion for others without having to talk herself into it so much. Compassion is hard to come by without experience. It's easy to have an intellectual awareness of the need to cut people some slack, it's easy to repeat to one's self: "Everyone is doing the best they can." but it's quite another to feel that understanding of another person's soul because it comes from a place of experience.

On page 259 she said,

"Along with a more humorous attitude, I wanted to be kinder. I'd considered kindness a respectable but bland virtue... but researching Buddhism, with its emphasis on loving-kindness, had convinced me that I'd overlooked something important."

Important? Ya think? Wow. "...a respectable but bland virtue"? That really threw me. In my world, and in much of the world's religions, kindness is a branch of love, which is the most important commandment, the flavour of life, our raison d'être. How can kindness ever be bland as an idea or a manifestation?

"I wanted to practice loving-kindness but it was such a vague goal -- easy to applaud but hard to apply. What strategies would remind me to act with loving-kindness in my ordinary day? ...Perhaps mere politeness wouldn't engender loving-kindness in me, but acting politely would at least give me the appearance of possessing that quality -- and perhaps appearance would turn into reality."

Am I the only one who sees the problems with this paragraph?

The entire book is sprinkled with talk of "strategies", with wishful thinking, with "perhaps"s and "maybe"s and "acting". Is it possible that she does not see that true happiness does not come from acting kind but being kind?

On page 275 she says,

".... if I keep my resolutions and do the things that make me happier, I end up feeling happier and acting more virtuously. Do good, feel good; feel good, do good."

Again, she describes "acting" instead of "being". Tsk. And besides that, how is this a revelation worth publishing a book about? Hey, this just in folks: If you keep up resolutions for things you know you should do, it will make you happier. So, keep up your resolutions, okay? Tell us something we don't know, right? Like, how to keep those resolutions without merely gritting our teeth and digging our heels in. I know that if I would be kinder to Jim-Bob that I would feel better and that feeling better would then make it easier for me to be kinder to Jim-Bob. But how do I get the momentum to do something I don't really want to do, and won't he sense the falseness anyway?

This is why she finds it so easy to judge other people's behaviours -- she doesn't focus on the heart, she focuses on the outward appearance. If it's so easy for her to change her behaviour (um, easy because she has to or she doesn't have book fodder), then other people should be able to as well.

This was the only preconceived expectation I had when starting this book -- that she would strive to change herself by merely digging her feet in and, with sheer willpower, change her habits. I was otherwise expecting to enjoy this book. I am blown away by its superficiality and its inability to inspire me or to change anyone in a profound, lasting way. Its methodical layout, its quotes from philosophers, its articulate writing, and its New York Times bestseller's list placement does not trick me into thinking it's a life-changing book. The only reason it changed Gretchen's life was because she was writing a book. It serves as more of a mostly humour-less journal, really. It couldn't even be categorised under "self-help".

I find it profound that in the last chapter she asks her husband if her happiness project has made him happier at all. He answers, "Nope." Then she says, "But he had changed" and explains all the changes. But... that doesn't mean he's happier. Maybe he wasn't happier because he was already happy. Maybe he was happy being the kind of man who doesn't reply to her emails. Maybe he was happy not doing the things that would make her happier if he would just do them. Maybe he was happy in his imperfections... and hers. Maybe it's just Gretchen who thinks that happiness can be found in resolutions, in gold stars, in being likable.

I felt like I was reading my own journey to discovering the secret to happiness, from when I was in my early 20's. At one point I actually thought it would be a good idea to make a list of all my negative qualities and all the bad things I did. Why I thought this would be beneficial escapes my recollection. And maybe it's this reminder that made me so sad. Maybe if I didn't identify with what I see as her confusion, I wouldn't even notice it.

I think it's the idea of happiness that attracts people enough to make this a best-selling book. Bite-sized blog posts about the topic are interesting to most of us, but I expected a book to be more substantial.

(Needless to say, I am no longer bummed out that someone else wrote my book. The Happiness Project has made it easier for me to write what I need to write about, to fill in the gaps, to explore the human psyche, as pretentious as that sounds. Am I qualified? Sure. What makes Tiger Woods qualified to teach about golf is that he's good at golf. I'm good at introspection and answering tough questions honestly. My friends should expect much badgering from me for their experiences and opinions. :-) As well, there are many works to read as reference, such as Voltaire's Candide. So far, I'm only about 5000 words into my book writing but I have an outline and an inkling and a nanny. I just need some sleep, some time, some privacy, and a writerly mood. It's the passionate mood that's so hard to come by and without it, writing is so excruciating and never as good. So, we'll see.)

"In the dark hours when others were asleep..."

2010-01-23T11:32:07-07:00

Really must update my Fave Quotes page, above, and add this to it. In the meantime, I draw attention to it with its own full post:

“In the winter, in the dark hours when others were asleep, I found these words and put them together by their appetites and respect for each other. In stillness they jostled, they traded meanings while pretending to have only one.”

-poet William Stafford, punctuation mine, emphasis mine.

Those 50 words, arranged as they are, do something to me. They well me up with emotion in my chest and in my eyes.

Had to share.

I will not be persuaded, urged, encouraged, or manipulated

2010-01-22T13:13:04-07:00

Jude, my gym trainer, phoned me not long after leaving the house for work.

"Hi."

"I just dropped the kids off at school. They were all walking back because the buses are not running."

"Because of the fog."

"Right. It's easy enough to see in town, I could understand the country buses not running.... Anyway, you might want to listen a local radio station to find out if they're running by the afternoon."

"Well, I would just phone the school and ask."

"Oh. Okay. How are you feeling?"

"I'm tired. I was thinking of going back to bed, actually." Amusing, since I went to bed early and slept like a rock.

"You should do five minutes of exercise, whatever you want, so that you feel like you've earned your nap."

"Ah, see, I don't feel bad about having a nap."

"Uh... yesyoudo."

"No, really, I don't."

"Yes, you do feel bad, you're just in denial. You've been in denial for so long you are not even aware that you're in denial."

I laugh. "You're just saying that because you think five minutes of exercise will perk me up so that I won't want to have a nap."

"No, I'm not. Just do it."

"Uh huh. Have a good day, Nike."

"Okay, I'm on the highway now. I'll let you go. Love you!"

"Love you, too."

Happy 11th wedding anniversary, Hon. Thanks for the laughs and for dancing in the kitchen and for bringing me breakfast in bed and for help with raising my children. Thanks for growing a beard for me. Thanks for teasing me and for taking my teasing with a fab sense of humour. Thanks for always asking before coming home if there's anything I want you to pick up and for bringing home chips without derision, without comment even, if I ask you to. Thanks for letting me make my own choices and not criticising me for them or even rolling your eyes. Thanks in advance for letting me buy whatever I want at the Indian restaurant tonight -- in advance, it was delicious.

Daily Gratitudes

Good friends.
Lovely blog commenters-- thanks for all your sweet words the other day. I store them for when I need them most.
IT'S THE WEEKEND. Ugh. Felt like such a long week.
I am done with Bell Canada forever and ever, amen. Finally.
It's my anniversary. Been looking forward to going out to dinner for a month. Then Adult Games Night at the church. Nice name, I know. I've already reached my joke quota.

Inviting you to my funeral, please review programme and rsvp

2010-01-21T09:39:03-07:00

I have decided to die. Eventually.

I am hiring a fancy letterpress maker to make me some invites for my funeral. But while they are being produced, I am giving the people who matter most, the real people in my life -- my blog readers -- an advance programme, here, on my *blog.

* Said with reverence.

I was formerly planning on gene therapy until Christ comes. It's expected that in 10 years or less, the human genome will be sequenced, on an individual basis, for only $1000. We will be able to find out what diseases we're expected to get and then we can prevent them. I'm sure I can extend my time long enough for Christ to usher in 1000 years of world peace (which I've always assumed won't include death but will be followed by direct translation to heaven).

But... ehn. To be honest, Earth? I can do better. Earthquakes, frigid winters, temptation galore, and do you realise how many calories are in a single whole wheat and flax seed tortilla? 200! I can't stand for that. As well, I figure I get a head start in the spirit world, on all of you, if I leave first so, because I'm competitive, and because of tortillas, I've decided to just die.

It's tough to pick a date of death. I never realised before how much there was to consider. If I die in spring, summer, or fall, then my loved ones, in their immense grief and suffering, will miss the joy of these beautiful seasons and will just move right on into winter so really, their whole year will be like a winter, as everything becomes a blur of Natasha barrenness. (Not Baroness, although I don't mind that nick name.)

If I die in winter, that's just compounding grief and misery to the point where people might off themselves. And remember, this is all about me getting a competitive edge in the spirit world. I can't have you dying near my time of death.

I've decided that June seems fair because the kids have the summer to mourn, so it won't interfere with their university educations, and most people have vacation days saved up. I will wait until after my sister's birthday, to be nice.

So, as they say, save the date:

June 16th 2029.

It's a Friday, leaving room for a funeral on the weekend. I don't want to inconvenience anyone. Or, if you're happy to have a good excuse for time off work, maybe we can make the funeral on Sunday so you can have Monday and Tuesday for travel time? Let me know in the comments; there's still flex room.

I hope you like France because that's where I'll be living then, for part of the year. In part so that all my American friends will have to visit France if they want to attend my funeral and then they'll see that they've been brainwashed into thinking France is evil. I am a Teacher even from my coffin, you see.

I'm thinking Bordeaux because it's close to the ocean but then, do I really need to be tempted by all that wine? Like life isn't hard enough already. So, location -- I'll get back to you on this. I don't have to have a location yet; the point behind "save the date" announcements is to say "we don't have all the details ironed out yet but we DO know the date so save it".

Even better, I'm giving you the date and an idea of how much money you'll need to save between now and then for the plane fare. With inflation, I estimate you'll need to save around $23,500. Perhaps you can get a night job bagging groceries?

I am inviting you and one guest. I wish I could allow more guests but I'm expecting it to be packed and that's a lot of food prep for me.

Do not send flowers. Please don't waste your money. Flowers die and my family are unlikely to appreciate the reminder of my absence. Plus, there's that plane fare, remember. Ouch.

You may bring food as an offering but if you bring a casserole, what are you even doing at my funeral? You clearly don't know me at all. If you bring a casserole I will assume that you are mocking me to my family and my spirit will possess the body of the nearest vicious animal and I will whoop your heiny and you better hope that animal is not an elephant or a tiger.

The funeral will take place at a Latter-day Saint chapel because -- I don't know if you've heard this -- I'm Mormon. I know it's not always abundantly clear, but I think I give a pretty good idea. I mean, there's a LOT of coffee and wine, among other indulgent activities, that I pass up, so don't forget that about my good example. Not a good party religion but what can you do?

I won't be cremated. I like the idea of being able to see a person after they've died, to make sure they're dead, and to say goodbye to a concrete something instead of an mystical spirit that's who-knows-where ... even though they look horrifying. But I won't look horrifying. I'll be freshly dead because it will all be planned and my make-up artist (emphasis on artist) nephew Mathew, who by then will be doing make-up for movie stars, will come do my make-up and I will be the hottest dead person you ever saw. You will have death envy. Mathew is qualified to make me look like a space alien so surely he can make me look like a hotter version of myself.

You may take souvenir photos with me in my coffin. Vince Jones and Julie Duggan will be the event photographers and will make sure that my hotness doesn't get the better of you. No make-out photos, okay?

Now, there's a rumour online that Boyd K. Packer, in a talk about the unwritten order of things, instructed against members deciding funeral programmes and making them about the person who died instead of about The Plan of Salvation, but 1) LDS.org has no record of this talk so I can only assume he was spouting off his own opinion there, if he really gave that talk, which he probably did, and, 2) I don't care. I'll be playing the convert card until death.

So, in my last gesture of convert free will, the tentative programme will be as follows, unless my bishop at the time wants to risk being haunted and I have a feeling I would be really good at haunting people:

Opening Hymn: You Don't Bring Me Flowers by Barbra Streisand

Pianist: Harry Connick, Jr. or, if unavailable, Pam Thompson

Opening Prayer: Katie Klute, who will, of course by then, be Mormon.

Eulogy: John Burton.

I'm thinking that Jude, the kids, Louise Burton, and Katie, will be way too broken up. In fact, if they're not bawling their heads off I just might reconsider my position, repossess my body to come back and be even more wonderful and doting so that when I later suddenly vanish they are just destroyed -- mere skeletons of human beings -- for at least a full miserable year. I mean it. I was planning on being a bit of a jerk before my funeral so I wouldn't be missed so much but baby, I could turn on the charm so much that they would rather be burned at a stake than live one day without me. I don't recommend tempting me: Cry for me, Argentina.

John will hold it together, he knows me well, and I have a feeling he's a good speaker. I certainly think my eulogy demands the dignity of a posh English accent, don't you? I know he's a good writer so, he should have no problem writing a eulogy using only song titles. You have lots of time to work on that, John.

My Goodbye Video: Me. I have lots of jokes like, "Whoo, it's hot here!" and other such nonsense. I'll start out being all funny and then I'll pretend that it's all about you and tell you how much I love you and how much I'll miss you and I'll bear my testimony and be sooo spiritual so that you're just blubbering. It's gonna be awesome. Wear waterproof mascara, Mathew.

Closing Hymn: You're Gonna Miss Me When I'm Dead and Gone by Muddy Waters

Closing Prayer: I don't know. I'm thinking people who want to say the closing prayer should put their names in a box before the service starts and the bishop can draw a name. No cheering and running down the aisle when your name is called, though. That's bad form, duh.

So, the after party. I'm going to rent some really gorgeous hall, lots of stone and wood and big windows, and it will be decorated prettily, similar to what I would do for a wedding reception do-over. At least once you'll play For the Girl by The Fratellis and I'm counting on Sara, Katie, and Louise to rock the joint. A mic will be set up and everyone can take turns revealing my secret works of service and telling about all the thoughtful and lovely things I said and did and all the gifts I mailed wrapped so perfectly with poetry tape, and be sure to mention how delicious the funeral food I made for you is -- I like that. Always compliment the cook. The theme will be "Gush". You can't overdo it. Remember, this is for my children, so they can warm themselves in the coming years with the memories of how loved I was at my funeral. However, do not feel compelled to spend more than eight hours on this. And if Jack Johnson keeps insisting on singing songs he's written about me, just humour him, okay? He gets like that, all attention-grabby.

Mike and Brett will be responsible for live tweeting all of this. Don't be too smartassy, okay, guys? I was nice to you, remember.

For parting gifts I'm debating between "I was at Natasha's funeral in 2029!" tee shirts and tattoos. Maybe some nice earrings with my initial on them?

Please RSVP so I can know how much food to prepare. Thank you.

Warmly,

Natasha.

Daily Gratitudes

I have a warm, pretty home, albeit small, but I kind of like that.
I have a hardworking husband.
My son is developing a great sense of humour. He loved this post. When he laughed at the first hymn selection I said, "Why is that funny?" and he said, "Because you told them not to bring flowers!" He's SO sharp. I think we're going to be great friends when he grows up. It's moments like these that make me happy because there are many other times I just don't relate to him.
People who inspire me.
The Writer's Almanac. I recently started re-listening, reminded of it by my friend John. I used to listen to it in my high school English class every time the period fell at 9:00. It was my favourite part of the day; Garrison Keillor has the warmest, richest, loveliest voice of any human. He is exactly what I would imagine God to sound like. My teacher would put it on every time, without fail. We would talk after about Garrison Keillor and Prairie Home Companion and would bond. He gave me a REALLY good mark on my poem comparison essay between She Walks in Beauty Like the Night and She Was a Phantom of Delight, which are practically the same poem they're so alike, that one must have copied the other. But really, I think he just had a crush on me and this was confirmed by the somewhat creepy hug he gave me when I graduated and then I later heard that he exchanged letters with fellow-graduating student Lisa, wherein he was flirty, and also he later crashed his car drunk driving, which doesn't further my theory about his crush on me, it just added to the general picture. Also, he wore this giant elastic to hold his glasses really tight up against his big bald head. I don't know why I didn't go for that.

Becoming Something

Checking off an item from my bucket list: Back flip

A letter I got after my "Bear My Burden?" post.

Poor United States of America

A poem: Two Distances

Correction: Best song in the universe right now is...

Bear my burden, please?

Absurd article on Meridian.com about the evils of Facebook

CMB: The Canadian women's hockey players drinking/smoking "scandal"

Deconstruction of a joke that was never made; OR, How I say good morning

Best laid plans....

Pondering addictions and excommunication and salvation *updated*

Verdict: The Happiness Project actually *was* depressing

"In the dark hours when others were asleep..."

I will not be persuaded, urged, encouraged, or manipulated

Inviting you to my funeral, please review programme and rsvp

Pondering addictions and excommunication and salvation updated

Verdict: The Happiness Project actually was depressing