The Silly Episcopalian

 So yeah, I got married yesterday!! I am so glad I did.  I'm so glad WE did!  I have found a life partner who makes me happy, real, and loved. But I remember when we first got engaged, Mom said to me "well, it's only a 2nd marriage." and how much I bristled at that. At first I started thinking ok, I failed at the first one.  I tried so hard to love him.  I really did.  But it just didn't work.  It turned out that we both realized, after 12 years, that we were in love with being in love, and not with each other. I'm glad the both of us realized this.  I know that we are both happier. But "ONLY" a second marriage?  Why?  Why isn't it honored that we might just have learned our lessons?  That we  might understand better what we need in our lives and how to love? I remember walking down the aisle at the first marriage and being more nervous about how people liked my dress than the excitement that I was marrying that particular person.  Yesterday, I c

  Ok, friends. It's time to get political. Isn't there ENOUGH turmoil in the world? Who's gonna top this one? Who's gonna say "thoughts and prayers" and then say that it's too complicated to make it more difficult to get an assault weapon? The kid who got himself the gun legally is still not even old enough to drink by law. I'd rather see him get blasted on Natty Ice or any other drink than going and legally purchasing something that was literally made with the intent to kill. When Columbine happened, I remember getting very, very scared to teach. I was scared that these things would become commonplace. Guess what, folks? They are now! Can you name all the shootings that have happened in the last year? Yeah, I didn't think so. Last weekend someone shot up a grocery store in Buffalo. Today some asshole shot up a school and killed EIGHTEEN CHILDREN. But yeah, let's continue making sure that 18 year olds can legally buy assault weapons

When I started working with people with developmental disabilities, I was taught very emphatically to use certain terms:  - person-first language (people with disabilities vs. disabled people) - autism spectrum (he/she is on the autism spectrum vs. he/she is autistic) ... so many more. A few years ago I had the pleasure and honor of attending a function where Temple Grandin, a very famous advocate of the autistic community, spoke about her experience as a woman with autism navigating the world now.  She told us about how she had to get used to the wireless microphone that she was wearing on her face plus the fact that her throat was a bit sore so she had to be drinking warm liquid (tea with lemon I believe?) while she was talking to us.  I remember her referring to the microphone as "this contraption" that was touching her face. What struck me, though, is her emphatic disagreement with the terminology of autism being a "spectrum."  She said that she is autistic (her

 Holy week is MY FAVORITE THING EVER.  I get to geek out on liturgy and tradition, and thanks to my mom I enjoy all of the symbolism through it all.  Being a church musician keeps me busy in all of the best ways possible. Yesterday's vigil was awesome.  The man who chanted the Exsultet?  sublime.  I could listen to the guy sing all day every day.  PERFECT tenor.  I live for the Vigil.  It is literally my favorite night of the year.  Screw Christmas.  Screw EVERYTHING else.  The Great Vigil is my jam. This morning we got to enjoy both Byrd's "Haec Dies" and Handel's "Hallelujah."  In the Byrd, all "haec" breaks loose and we sail on a sea of polyphony.  If you count your keister off, it works.  But if you start paying attention to all of the other parts, fuggedaboudit.  6 voices is too much for this out-of-practice musician to relax.  But it sure is fun to sing and listen to afterward! But the best part of the whole week happened when I was walki

 I thought I'd conquered my difficulty in the whole belief and forgiveness when I finally figured out how to forgive someone who used my SSN to take out credit cards in their name.  Then I wound up having to open my home to the very last person on earth that I'd want to. I'm not comfortable with them in my house because of their recent criminal record.  I feel fiercely protective of my little family, and the tiniest bit of something that I wouldn't trust is not welcome in my home. Then I was challenged. "[X] will be coming to visit tonight." I had already articulated that I didn't want [X] to know where I lived, let alone be in my home.  [X] is someone for whom I have very little regard for many reasons -- mostly because of [X] hurting people that I love. Then I was on a drive to my hair dresser's, about 1/2 hour away. (I have the luxury of most of my life's conveniences being within 15 minutes from home.)  I had time to think about the idea of [X]

 Yesterday some things were said out of defensiveness and anger, not entirely directed at me, but those things have cut me so deeply that I'm having trouble smiling at all today.  I feel like my world has just crumbled... or at the least a piece of my heart was made brittle and it was broken through. Or did I actually build a wall around myself to protect my sensitivity?  And did a piece of mortar fall out amongst the stones where those words could enter and shock and hurt so deeply? Or was it that I took down my wall for this person and allowed myself to be hurt? I almost think it's the last. If it is the last, then how can I keep myself from building up walls?  Should I allow myself to be hurt?  What happens if I am hurt again?  Will I scar?  If I scar, what will happen? intense fragility.

It has been almost a month of avoiding doing what I said I'd do when the Quarantine began. I've been disobeying the rules and going places every once in a while just so I can see all the things we expected to need by now. I'm not reading enough, I'm not writing enough, I'm not exercising enough. Instead I'm lounging too much I'm eating too much I'm drinking too much. Today I learned that the blessings I have might not be anymore. I don't want to look at all the things we thought of as normal as poignant curiosities anymore. All I want is to lie still -- still enough that the Horror can't find me. c.2020 EMM "chuchotement" is French for a whisper