Reality Bites (actually, just Alex bites)

Faithful readers of this blog will recall a little posting I made about a month back glorifying a certain contestant on The Apprentice, season 3 (mercifully almost at an end). Well, in the ensuing weeks he's revealed himself to be a completely incompetent, arrogant, lazy prick. Somehow he just kept sliding through week after week of losing tasks due to his incredibly bad decisions and overall piss-poor performance on the few responsibilities he had.

(And we were also the unfortunate witnesses of a series of pseudo-hetero man-dates with his bestest buddy on the show, Bren [yech! but who turned out to be a little more competent than Alex despite getting fired first], blow-drying his armpits after a shower, designing the dumbest / most useless piece of office furniture I've ever seen, take a nap instead of working, and just generally stinking up the place with creatively arrogant comments like "Bren is my oasis in this vast imbecilic land. Like I’m surrounded by morons and their mascots" and "While Erin and Stephanie are space cadets, they are firmly grounded in the gravity of the fact that one of the two of them are going to get fired tonight".)

I still can't quite figure out how he had time to 1) have his highlights redone and 2) have his highlights undone in the span of a few weeks when the others are supposedly running on 2-3 hours of sleep and 1 meal a day.

Not that the remaining 3 are any better, really (well, the women kinda are, but not by much). Let's just say that Trump gets what he deserves with this bunch, and leave it at that. I don't even care who wins now.

But Alex, good riddance. I can't believe I ever rooted for you. Humph.

I'm not bitter. I've just got a little schadenfreude thing going on here.

(Gotta chuckle at Alex's last words in the cab ride outta there post-firing. Something about "I've got 10 ideas to start a brand-new business... I can't wait to start a whole new life..." I chimed in, "you mean you're gonna finally come out now?" heh.)

p.s. Alex, if you're reading this, give me a call sometime. [Did I just type that??!!!??? ]

Nychto ne znat što nja bolyt'... (Nobody knows what ails me)

Nychto ne znat što nja bolyt', lem tot dochtor što nja hojit'...

("Nobody knows what ails me, only the doctor can cure me..." - a popular line used in Rusyn folk songs)

Or the dentist, rather. I'm starting to feel like either a hypochondriac or just an incurable drama queen about my bodily existence, but jeez! This week it's been the feeling of something stuck between my upper back teeth that I've flossed out how many times and evidently is still there... not to mention some strange pains in my other teeth that may or may not be related.

Maybe that recurring dream about all my teeth suddenly falling out is finally coming true.

Fortunately I've got a dentist appointment coming up soon. (For a filling, no less. Maybe *that's* what hurts!)

On the plus side, my teeth *are* actually really, really clean! (Thanks, Mr. Sonicare toothbrush.)

What Personality Disorder Are You?

You May Be a Bit Borderline ...

Your mood swings make a roller coaster look tame! When you're up, you're a little bit crazy... And when you're down, your whole world is crashing Scary thing is, these moods can change by the minute!

What Personality Disorder Are You?

Habemus Papam. Whoopee!

A week has passed since the white smoke went up from the Sistine Chapel chimney. I'm still not sure what to think about it all. Somehow I had the feeling that Joseph Ratzinger was a more likely choice than he'd been given credit for. And with the tremendous void left for many in the wake of JPII's death, it's only natural that the College of Cardinals might opt for an "if it ain't broke, don't fix it" choice. The problem is, some things ARE broke, and I'm not sure this is the man to fix them. If his past writings are any indication, it will be not just more of the same, but a LOT more of the same.

Still, we are supposed to trust that the College of Cardinals was guided by the Holy Spirit (that's God, ya know) in their selection. So I can't, as some are hysterically doing, dismiss this out of hand as a pope to just ride out. After all, I think that a pope should be orthodox, traditional, etc., and I think that's something that Benedict XVI no doubt will be. (Of course, those on the extreme right of the Latin Church -- and some who are outside it because they have this sede vacante belief, that Paul VI and his successors were/are not really popes, but we won't get into that -- who think Benedict XVI is a modernist/relativist who wishes to create one world religion and such nonsense. So in a sense he's got something for every taste.)

What concerns me is what the tone will be with respect to certain civil matters that I believe are matters of justice and should not concern the Church. That gay marriage thing, for one. The Vatican set the tone already this week in its response to Spain's new legislation:

The head of the Vatican's Pontifical Council on the Family, Cardinal Alfonso Lopez Trujillo, denounced the legislation as profoundly iniquitous.

So what else is new? (I, for one, find Catholic Spain's action in this respect to be refreshing.) There's plenty of other less-than-encouraging signs of what's to come, and voluminous writings from his tenure in the Curia as doctrinal "watchdog" that make even the most enthusiastic gay Catholics wince. I expect few surprises from the Vatican on this topic.

My mood for now is wait and see, but I'm not optimistic. But I'll continue to pray for him and that his pontificate will be one of positivity and not just an endless stream of "thou shalt nots". Christianity isn't primarily about that, it's about love, the love of God that became incarnate in His Son and dwelt among us. And what is our response -- to God and to others -- to that love, a love that also dwells within us because of our baptism into Christ.

On the Eve of the Conclave

OK, so it's already evening in Rome and the cardinals are about to assemble in the Sistine Chapel, if they haven't already. So I want to get this in before the new pope is announced. The official mourning period for JPII is over, so I want to just revisit some of what I said right after his death.

I still maintain that as popes go, he was a standout, and that as a man, he led a remarkable life. But he certainly wasn't perfect. Spiritually speaking he may be on par with some of the canonized saints of the Church, but practically speaking he was quite a complex individual. And some of what he was perceived as is probably a gross exaggeration. For example, how much credit should he get for the fall of communism in eastern Europe and the collapse of the Soviet Union?

More problematic is the moralistic response to the AIDS epidemic in Africa (and elsewhere) and the uncritical "embrace" of certain world leaders.

More bizarre, on the other hand, is the heaping praise he received from the usual "liberal" media suspects who usually only have time to spotlight the Catholic Church when there's a scandal afoot. As much as I cringe at some of the beliefs of the ultra-right fringes of the Latin Church (the so-called "traditionalists"), this author hit it right on the mark:

In the days immediately following the death of Pope John Paul II, Catholics with any sense of dignity and tradition are horrified to see the organs of world opinion, as if by some prearranged signal, conducting a campaign to make of our late Pope a veritable icon of the New World Order--literally the first pope in Church history deserving of the world’s unanimous praise. An endless parade of dignitaries without the least respect for the teaching authority of the Catholic Church has been instantly produced to hail John Paul II, not as the Roman Pontiff that he was, but as an esteemed leader of “the global community” -- a community that will never, of course, submit to any Pope.

This is the figurehead Pope of Masonic dreams: loved and admired, but never feared; respected, but not obeyed, unless it pleases one to obey him; an eminent leader among the leaders of the world’s religions, but no more than this. This is the kind of Pope the “modern world” wants to see emerge from the next conclave--the kind it has always wanted to see emerge from the next conclave. And that is why the world, at this very moment, is trying to appropriate to itself the memory of John Paul II. But we must not allow the world to abstract the Pope from the Mystical Body of Christ, to which he is inseparably attached and without which he is nothing.

And so we cannot remain silent during what should be a period of mourning, for even the process of mourning is being manipulated to attack the Mystical Body. For in this case, with the death of this Pope, something unprecedented is happening that compels us to speak now in opposition: one Pope is being exalted above all others by a world that otherwise has no use for Popes. We must not allow the papacy to be exploited in this way. Nor can we allow our fellow Catholics to assist in that exploitation by agreeing with the world that John Paul II was indeed a Pope above all others, and that by implication the Church has never had a Pope so worthy of the world’s respect. That notion undermines the very integrity of the Church. We have no choice but to object.

And of course -- as cited by numerous papal critics on the right and the left -- the abysmal state of the Church -- statistically & spiritually -- in western Europe went unchanged or from bad to worse during JPII's pontificate. Is this his fault? Not really. The lackadaisical papal response to the clerical sex abuse scandals in the USA (& to a lesser extent elsewhere) was hardly edifying. And his repeated fixation on blaming gay people as the source of so much of the evil in the world has unfortunately further alienated even those gay and lesbian Catholics who (like me) try to live a faithful, authentically Catholic (in my case, Byzantine, not Latin) spiritual and moral life yet who cannot in conscience accept the Church's declaration that every homosexually-oriented person should -- and must -- live a celibate life with no possibility for a God-blessed romantic love and physical expression of that love. This former seminarian said things that hit home for me:

I remained in the seminary for several more years before I made the difficult decision to leave the priestly formation. It was time for me to stop living my life based on a decision I'd made when I was a scared teenager. I'd reached a point in the seminary where I no longer harbored secrets. I was free to go and free to stay. I left on good terms and with a great deal of support. The message to me was clear: "You are important to us." I'll never forget that.

Of course my relationship with the church is difficult at times. No one with self-respect can feel good when the church suggests that we are part of an ideology of evil. But I balance that message with the one of love and respect given to me as a child and as a young, confused seminarian who was given ample chances and was still treated as the prodigal son when I came to the conclusion that I didn't have a vocation to the priesthood.

Many gay and lesbian Catholics walk away from the church, saddened that they're not appreciated for their gifts and the contribution that diversity brings everyone. But this isn't my path. I still see myself as a child of God, as did my bishop and rector. With that belief comes a strong desire to be a part of the church, to worship with a community and to give back in gratitude for the life I've been given. With trepidation and hope, I await the transition of the church with a new papacy. I'm an observant Catholic, I attend mass, and it's my obligation to participate in the discussions about this transition, no matter the hostile language coming from all sides.

I pray that one day, sooner than later, the church will remember that we're all God's children. Gay or straight, for better or worse, we're all the body of Christ. And, drawing on my positive experiences with the church, I hope for a larger-scale expression of support for lesbians and gays, the same message I received as a child and again in the seminary: You are important to us.

And finally, for an ideologically-balanced but still hostile evaluation, here's one from Andrew Sullivan:

Did he succeed? The question is an impossible one. If by success, we mean the maintenance of the truth in the face of error, then only God knows. If by success, we mean asserting the truths of Christianity against the lies of Communism, then the answer is an unequivocal yes. But if by success, we mean winning the argument against secular democracy in the West, the answer must be no. This European Pope oversaw an unprecedented collapse of the Church in its European and Western heartland. He even lost Ireland. Under his papacy, vocations for the priesthood barely kept up with population in the developing world and simply collapsed in the West. Protestantism boomed in South America. Mass attendance in North America fell, along with donations. The next generation of priests? It is struggling to survive in the West. And the quality of the priesthood went from mediocre to terrible. It is hard to find a priest in many parts of America these days. To find a homily of any intellectual stature is almost impossible. If you judge a successful leader by the caliber of men he inspires to follow him, then the judgment on John Paul II is damning.

Under his papacy, the Church was also found guilty of allowing the rape and molestation of vast numbers of children and teenagers, and of systematically covering the crimes up. It is hard to understand how the leader of any lay organization would have stayed in office after allowing such criminality. But how the leader of the Catholic Church survived without even an attempt at papal accountability is still astonishing. A pope who devoted huge amounts of intellectual energy to explicating why the only moral expression of human sexuality is marital heterosexual intercourse, presided over the rape of thousands of children by his own priests. What was his response? He barely had one. He protected the chief enabler of the abuse in the U.S., Cardinal Law, and used the occasion of his own church's failing to blame homosexuals in general for the abuse. Attempting to grapple with the real question would have meant opening up a debate about priestly celibacy, homosexuality, pedophilia and the Church's disporportionately gay priesthood. And this Pope was far more interested in closing debates rather than opening them.

I have a personal stake in this as well, of course. I'm a Catholic now withdrawn from communion whose entire adult life has been in Wojtila's shadow. And as a homosexual, I watched as the Church refused to grapple with even basic questions, and ran, terrified, from its own deep psycho-sexual dysfunction. "Be not afraid," this Pope counseled us from beginning to end. But he was deeply afraid of the complicated truth about human sexuality, and the dark truth about his own church's crimes. This was a Pope who, above all, knew how to look away. How else do you warmly embrace Yassir Arafat and Tariq Aziz without moral judgment? But people - faithful people - noticed where he couldn't look. And they grieved, even as, in the aftermath of this brittle, show-boating papacy, they now hope.

Was JPII the perfect pope? For an unbelieving, hostile world, perhaps he was the best they could reasonably expect. For the Church, he was better than most but still... John Paul the Great? I don't think so. Pope Saint John Paul? I pray that he is in heaven, i.e., a saint. Absolutely! But "Santo Subito" [an immediate canonization]? Please, let him rest in peace. At least until the dust settles and a sober evaluation of his life and pontificate can take place.

Relevant Radio

DC is a radio wasteland.

What does it say that in the 7+ years I've lived here, the only regular radio show that I truly loved* was on a Baltimore station?

I can't pick up even local FM radio stations in my apartment building, so about the only listening I do is in the car. Even then I'm always switching around stations because they play more stuff I hate than I like. When I moved here in 1998, there was a very good "hot hits"-type station that leaned heavily towards dance tracks (you know, techno, trance, etc.). I liked that station a lot. Tragically (oh, the humanity!) they sort of changed formats around 1999-2000 to mainstream Top 40. That was the end of my like-affair with DC commercial radio.

Cut to 2005. April. The 16th. I'm sitting in the chair in my local hair salon (it's not a "barbershop", mind ye) for my monthly chop-chop, and lo and behold I hear some kind of radio station with some really cool trancey tracks. (Well, it is more or less a gay salon -- it's the kind of music that you always hear in those salons, but I never thought to inquire where exactly the stuff comes from.) So I asked Bill, the 1/2-owner & my stylist, what we were listening to -- was it a digital cable music channel, or satellite radio, perhaps? He answered that it was an Internet station, "Radio 1".

Cool! So it wouldn't cost me anything to listen to elsewhere...

A little while ago this eve I managed to locate it and it turns out it's a service of the Beeb. Yep, the Queen's royal BBC. There's actually a ton of online live radio broadcasts from the Beeb, with all sorts of music genres, talk, etc. Check out the choices just from Radio 1. For the hot dance tracks, select 1Xtra as the station, and "Radio 1's Dance Anthems - Dave Pearce with club bangers and dance floor faves" as the program. Cool! Even works nicely with my lameass 56Kbps dialup at home.

(By the way, my haircut is really cute. You should see it.)

* That amazing show was "The '80s Wave" hosted by a total dude, Scott Davies. It ran on 106.5 FM from 10 to midnite on Sundays and featured the coolest of new wave, Brit-synth-pop, early MTV, and disco. It wasn't your typical '80s show where you've heard everything a million times in the last five years. They played a lot of more-obscure and almost-forgotten tracks that were a real blast to remember. I can't find anything on the web about it, so I'm not sure when it ended. I think it was around 2001. I've heard nothing like it since.

A Political Humor Break

This was far too good to let slide into the oblivion of e-mail pass-arounds. Thanks to Art for sending it my way. (And with apologies to Terri Schindler Schiavo, may she rest in peace.)

Vegetable-in-Chief

Bush's brain activity is fading fast
by D.P. Sorensen

Top neurological experts have concluded that President George W. Bush shows all the signs of being in a persistent vegetative state. "There is a total absence of cognitive function and verbalization," said Dr. Lester Frennell, head neurologist at the University of Michigan-Dearborn. "His public utterances are gibberish. The man is incapable of uttering a grammatical sentence, let alone a meaningful one. People who purport to find sense in his speeches are like pet owners who think their dogs can talk."

Dr. Frennell added that Mr. Bush's famous winks, smirks and nasal chortles are merely neurological quirks, involuntary twitches of the autonomic nervous system. "The cerebral cortex is long gone. All that's left is the brain stem, sending out random electrical impulses. When you see him following a balloon across the room with his beady eyes, it's the same involuntary movements that occur when he's reading a teleprompter."

Bush supporters, led by the Christian right and the Fox News Channel, are disputing the diagnosis of PVS, claiming that the president has "cycles of wakefulness" and is "alert, conscious, and responsive." At a hastily called news conference, Bush's hulking brother Jeb said he had an affidavit from an "acknowledged expert" that proved the president, rather than being in a persistent vegetative state, was actually in a "state of minimal consciousness."

According to the affidavit signed by Manolo Casablanca, a White House manservant on at least one occasion the president displayed signs of life. "When I bring a platter of pretzels into Mr. George's TV room during the NCAA game between Utah and UTEP, he perked up just a bit." Normally, the president watches TV with glazed eyes and a gaping mouth and shows no awareness of anyone else in the room. (Aides say that there's an executive order banning Bush's mother, the formidable Barbara, from entering the White House. She's the only living mortal being capable of rousing George from his TV trances, shouting out things like, "Get off your pratt, you worthless pinhead!") On the occasion Manolo brought Bush some pretzels, the recumbent president starting snapping his fingers during a Coke commercial.

In making the argument that his brother is not in a persistent vegetative state, Jeb Bush pointed out that other hypotheses have been put forward to explain his brother's cretinoid behavior.

"For instance, a number of eminent scientists are of the opinion that the president's brain was put in backward when assembly line angels were installing standard mental equipment. This explains why he is always mixing up words and saying things like, 'America is a place where wings take dream,' and 'Personal investment accounts do not permanently fix the solution.' With his brain installed backwards, my brother is famously confused about subjects and verbs, regularly saying things like, 'the illiteracy level of our children are appalling.' But George at times also suffers from another kind of confusion. Just recently he was introducing the wife of a fellow politician, and said, 'Karen is with us. She's a West Texas girl, just like me.'"

Jeb Bush made reference to several other hypotheses about his brother's cognitive deficiencies. Early in his career, observers attributed his appalling stupidity to being dropped on his head while he was a cheerleader at Yale University. But longtime friends say George was dumb as a post well before attending Yale.

There are many adherents of the theory that several years of hard drinking destroyed Mr. Bush's brain cells. Many patients resume normal mental functioning after going on the wagon; the president, however, seems to have had a low brain cell count to begin with, and lacked sufficient gray matter to bounce back into even subnormal functioning.

The Bush camp is fighting desperately to have the president's feeding tube reinserted. "We're counting on the Supreme Court to rule in our favor," said spokesman Scott McClellan. "They appointed him president in the first place, and now they can return him to his persistent vegetative state. Let me also point out that if Bush expires, Vice President Cheney will become president, and do we really want to have a man in the White House who needs a daily heart massage to stay alive?"

Meanwhile, the administration is stage-managing carefully scripted appearances by the vegetative president. Taking a page from the playbook of former President Kennedy, who told a throng of screaming Germans "Ich bin ein Berliner," Bush handlers had the president appear before a contingent of perplexed Iraqi dignitaries and announce, "I am a vegetarian."

Not a happy camper

My blog apparently went down right when I tried to publish last night's update... now this morning at work it's as if nothing's wrong. (That's right, I made it back to work today.)

Last night's TV situation was only so-so. The OC was kind of a bore, ER was a repeat. The Apprentice was rather good, and both Chris and Alex survived -- which means they're either going to kill each other next week, or elope :D (Oh, and Chris proclaimed Alex a metrosexual. Alex, you know that's step 1 on the path to acceptance.)

And I was so exhausted that I couldn't get up in time to watch any of the Pope's funeral liturgy this morning. However, I'm confident that some of the networks *may* rebroadcast it this weekend. *May.*

Trying NOT to look inside

OK, last night before bed I had to change the gauze dressing. As I began doing so, I noticed that there was a LOT of blood involved this time. In fact, the blood started dripping out onto my floor. (TMI yet?) I started panicking, grabbing for a Kleenex or some fresh gauze or anything that would make me feel like I was preventing my death from blood loss.

Finally I calmed down enough to actually apply the gauze correctly, but my hands were shaking so bad and I was nearly hyperventilating, and I couldn't really get it into the wound. So I just clumped it on top the hole, packed two other gauze pads on top of that, and covered 'er up for the night, praying that I wouldn't wake up in a pool of red stuff just in time to take one last breath!

So I'm a drama queen about my health sometimes... like you wouldn't be too in this situation. heh.

I made it through the doc's inspection this morning with flying colors and got his OK to go back to work tomorrow. Meanwhile, I'm trying to stretch these pain pills for all they're worth!

It's dinnertime and shortly thereafter I've got a full night of TV; you know the drill:

• The OC
• The Apprentice (Alex and Chris had a lovers' quarrel last week, let's see if either survives this time)
• ER (Jake, where have you been? I need some of your bedside manner, preferably shirtless!)

A Look Inside

Preface: I'm not sure exactly what "inspired" me to start this blog. It might have been a lightning strike of an idea, but there wasn't any evident immediate reason for it. But I did consider "writing as therapy" as good a reason as any. Given that I've only got a potential audience of about 20 people, I'm aware that I am going to be just writing to myself a lot. But that's OK, isn't it? Given that, dear readers, don't be surprised if sometimes you come upon something here that's "TMI"--too much information. If that happens, I apologize, but please understand that I've got a lot of things I need to work out and I'm counting on this sort of writing to help me do that.

After a weekend of discomfort and the coming-on of a cold, or flu, or something, and staying home from work Monday for feeling like total and utter crap, I wisely called the doctor (a specialist I'd seen last year for a similar problem, with respect to the "discomfort" but that went away on its own). I went in yesterday not knowing what to expect, but hoping that he would be able to give some immediate relief. I figured, though, that relief this time around would come in the form of a needle and/or scalpel. What I didn't realize was that my body was seriously infected by this "discomfort" and this infection was also the source of my flu-like symptoms, including the sorest throat I can recall.

Happily, the doc declared that he could drain the abcess, which he did -- using a big needle that hurt like hell -- and then would go further to clear out the rest of the problem. But in the surgery room.

After that little pleasure (and the larger pleasure of being shown the extract from my infected place) I had to get dressed and move across the hall. A group of residents was huddled in the hall. I smiled at & caught the eye of one super-cute, my-typeish young doc, who smiled back -- my one small bit of comfort in this uncomfortable and slightly scary process. Thank you Jose, may we meet again someday.

I was taken into the surgery room and given the backless gown (that was clearly designed for a biped of at least 300-400 pounds, and not for little old moi, since even with my broad shoulders the thing was perched precariously and fell off every few minutes). And then I waited more than a few minutes to find out that the doc had taken a conference call. Terrific. More waiting. How is it that the "surgery room" looks like a total dump and like it's probably harboring the germs of 1,000 shoe soles?

Anyway. When it was finally time for my big moment, and I got the local anesthetic, the doc mumbled something about how maybe we could wait until tomorrow to do this, or something... um, shouldn't we have discussed this a little more before we got to this point? But no! We were moving right along. Zap! Zap! Some more absolutely horribly painful needle sticks, a few taps and one or two "do you feel anything?" (wanting to say, "yes, anger, resentment, loneliness, terror") later, the problem area was lanced open for all to see. (Fortunately there were only the doctor and Nurse Ratchet there to see it.)

I'm not sure what happened after that, but whatever pretense of anesthesia there had been quickly disappeared. Holy Mother of God, I've never felt nasty sharp pains like that in my life, and I hope I never do again. I wanted to scream (like a little girl, even) but I managed to contain my emotion to some grunts and yelps and "yeeeooowwwwww" and a "dang, I wish I had something to bite down onnntttooooooAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!" (Jose, that woulda been the perfect time for you to come in and hold my hand... damn. No such luck.)

So they wiped me off, bandaged me up, and sent me home with some vague instructions and a hat trick of prescriptions (antibiotics, pain pills -- hallelujah!, and ummm...I won't mention that third one). I gotta go back Thursday for another look-see. And oh, by the way, my flu-like symptoms should go away shortly...

I hiked half a block to Pennsylvania Avenue to hail me a cab back to my local CVS to get my scrips filled. Man, I could just *taste* that antibiotic. (I'm like, "get this fucking shit out of me!!!!")

Finally I charged the whole works and made it the block & a half back home, trying to unload everything and get me that antibiotic pill as fast as I could. And the pain pill. Wonder drugs, all. And so I sat down in my lounge chair in front of the TV, feet up on the ottoman.

Wasn't long before I started to ponder what I'd just been through. There was a large element of relief to it -- relief that my discomfort, while temporary, would be far less than what prompted me to seek the doc in the first place. And relief that I had done the right thing and not waited any longer. (Taking my temp on Monday night and seeing I had a 102-degree fever kinda tipped me off that this was not a coincidental convergence of things, but a serious infection. One of those things Mom taught me. Thanks, Mom.)

It was then that I kinda started to cry. Not so much as a release of stress. Well maybe that was part of it. But so much more, I realized that even though I have a lot of friends, and a few that I knew I could count on that very day for help if I needed it (not to mention my parents, on whom I know I can count if I were to become seriously ill), that in my most intimate space and moments, I'm alone. I was alone yesterday, I'm alone today.

My thoughts immediately went to the one who is that person who would have shared that most intimate space with me. (Some of you reading know who that is.) I tried to comfort myself by imagining that he were here with me, that he could have held my hand in the surgical room, that he could have walked me home, and taken care of me. That just made it worse... wow, I cried yesterday.

As an only child, I'm naturally very independent. I can usually fend for myself in almost any situation. But this was one of those times where I just didn't want to be by myself. The older I get, the more I start to feel that these times are going to be coming around more frequently.

(For what it's worth, thank you, JimB / Iakovos504, for being there to talk on the phone yesterday when I felt kind of low.)

The home care regimen isn't quite what I had in mind when I got on board with this little surgery. The doc decided, to promote quicker healing and a smaller scar, to just leave the surgical hole open! (stuffed with gauze, of course, to absorb all the blood & other assorted nastiness) That means I've gotta clean up myself. Would you believe I'm supposed to stick my pinkie finger into this hole and wash in there? Ain't no way, honey! I'm not the squeamish type who faints at the sight of blood, but I almost passed out just trying to replace the old gauze plug with the new gauze plug!!! I'm like, "I don't need to see this! I shouldn't be looking inside my own body!" Not to mention that it's in a terribly awkward place for doing anything that requires accuracy. I hope the doc isn't upset with me tomorrow.

This little recuperation at home has some things going for it. It's an unexpected (but certainly not painless) vacation from the daily grind, I've got a little "me" time that allows for some guilt-free TV-watching and catching up on newspapers & magazines... and I'm not even in front of the PC that much because it just so happens that my computer chair is hella-uncomfortable to sit on in my condition. Unfortunately I'm not quite so mobile and so these two gorgeous days have been appreciated mostly only from my balcony and sitting inside next to the open balcony doors. Oh well, it's either that or the airtight office.

I think it's time for some more TV. And a smooth-down-the-throat dinner (my throat's still pretty sore). And another pain pill and another antibiotic. If I survive the doc followup tomorrow morning, I'll check back in at some point after that. But probably from work. Duty calls (and I'm just about out of sick days)!

In Gratitude for a Remarkable Life

A giant among popes.
A giant among men.

"Be not afraid"

Pope John Paul II
1920 - 2005

As you might have heard, Pope John Paul II (born Karol Wojtyla) died today. A more significant figure in world history in the 20th century you would be hard-pressed to find. His influence in so many areas - the fall of communism in eastern Europe, his untiring defense of the poor, oppressed, and unborn, a force for peace and justice - was considerable. He was a prolific writer, a true intellectual, and theologian in its truest meaning--a man of prayer. His charisma was remarkable. And even those who despised him and what he stood for had to pay attention to him.

As the head on earth of my Byzantine Ruthenian Catholic Church, the Pope of Rome usually occupies a significant, yet still remote, place in my spiritual life. As Byzantine Catholics we pray for him during the Liturgy and then for our own Metropolitan Archbishop and our eparchial bishops. Honestly, that was pretty much the extent of the pope's place in my thoughts, except when perhaps he was traveling to a Slavic country or when, over the past few months, he suffered a health crisis. And so it was over the last few days when it seemed his death was an impending reality. Last night especially, the media coverage of his health crisis on almost every TV channel was, well, relentless.

Yet, today as I sat at the computer and heard the first announcement that indeed he had passed away, I returned to that blasted TV and was instead gripped by the images and sounds from St. Peter's Square -- the near-silence of 250,000 people at prayer in the twilight, the tolling of the bells at the 1st hour after his last breath -- that I could not help but choke back some tears and offer some prayers on his behalf. I thought of the TV images that extended through what seemed like the whole of the last two days, the images of his 26-year pontificate. He has been, for all practical purposes, the only pope I've known. Those images were in part a look back over the span of my own life.

In so many ways, he was the embodiment of what a pope should be, and in some ways I could really identify with him: he was perhaps the first Slavic pope in history; he had a great devotion to the Theotokos, the Most Holy Virgin Mary, Mother of God; he worked tirelessly for the cause of reunion of the Catholic and the Orthodox Churches; and he recognized the heroic witness of three Communist-era martyred Rusyn Byzantine Catholic bishops (1, 2, 3) by beatifying them - declaring them "blessed" on the way to sainthood in the Catholic Church.

Only over the last few years, as my identity as a gay man became more developed and as I suffered a crisis of faith, vis-a-vis the Church, that I am still grappling with, my perception of this pope contracted in reaction to the callous, hurtful things he wrote and said about gay people and against marriage equality for gay people. Things uncharacteristic of his compassionate persona, things that were offenses against charity. With every new "pronouncement", I rolled my eyes and just wrote him off as an old man responding out of fear or unjustified malice. But after pondering in these last days just what an amazing person and pope he was, and what an incredible force for good he represented in the world, I think I can and will let go of any lingering resentment of those harsh words. I must forgive this, that is clear.

In the life of the Church now, the process to move to the next era, the next pontificate, is clear, but I, perhaps like many, feel that the future -- mine, the Church's, the world's -- is uncertain. Let us trust in God, and heed the words of the departed Karol Wojtyla: "Be not afraid."

I cannot but continue to offer my prayers of thanks for the good that was brought to the world through the remarkable life of Pope John Paul II, and prayers for the repose of his soul.

"With the souls of the Just brought to perfection, give rest, O Savior, to the soul of Your servant, keeping him for the blessed life with You, for You love mankind. In the place of rest which is Yours, O Lord, where all Your Saints repose, give rest to the soul of Your servant, for You alone love mankind."
(from the memorial service of the Byzantine Church)

Blessed repose and eternal memory - Christ is Risen!

Missed The Apprentice / An Ode to Alex

OK, OK, so I went shopping* last night instead of watching TV. Which means I didn't see The OC (a repeat), nor Will & Grace (does anyone watch this anymore? used to be my favorite show, now... ho-hum), nor The Apprentice. But the good news for me is that CNBC is showing it TWICE tonight, at 8 and 11.

What I can tell you now is that I'm sort of rooting for Alex (also here). He's by far the cutest of the contestants this year**, but also he seems to be the one who's got the best sense of what The Donald is looking for. Maybe I'm just biased towards the boys, but in the last 2 seasons, like this one, I've been pretty underwhelmed by the girls. Sorry, ladies.

(He does look really cute in jeans here.)

Incidentally, there's been a hilarious discussion about which team Alex actually bats for. There's no doubt he is a bitchy queen (and his clothes are at times outrageously faggy), but whether he's actually straight or not, only his "mega-hot girlfriend" knows for sure. (Even with his freaky ears and his Federalist Society cred, I'd be up for some fun with him.)

"Honey, I just cannot believe I have to work with someone as unstylish and unfabulous as Bren!"



The best "Alex" of them all. Gotta love the purple lightning-bolt shirt!

* I went shopping, but bought nothing. That's got to be a first! A shout-out to JB, who filled in for my role in buying the shit outta' the place!

** But if you include all the seasons, then the hottest boy candidate so far has gotta be John.
A real-live straight man in SanFran. --whatever.--
Yummy!!!

John Willenborg, late of Apprentice 2. Sigh...