I Like People

I often get frustrated with people, either because of their stupidity or my own lack of social skills, and declare that I want nothing to do with the human race. This past week, though, I've felt rather fond of our little species. Following is a list of people for whose existence I have been grateful this past week (if you're not on the list, I think you should ask yourself, to paraphrase Janet Jackson, "What have you done for Ben lately?"):

• FoxyJ, who has filled the role of Supermom superbly, both before, during, and after the move, despite the fatigue of being two months pregnant. When she and I do difficult things together, I'm reminded of what a good team we make.
  
• S-Boogie and Little Dude, who remain lovable as ever, despite how frustrating they can be sometimes.
  
• My sister L, who did the footwork of househunting for us so we could just get here and unload the truck into our nice new home.
• My mother-in-law, Earth Sign Mama, who flew out to Davis, helped us pack, helped FoxyJ drive across Nevada, and helped us unpack here before flying back home on Monday.
  
• The elders quorum in Davis, who helped us load a 16' truck in about 45 minutes.
• The relief society in Davis, who helped us get our apartment cleaned a good hour and a half ahead of schedule.
  
• My mom, two sisters, brother, brother-in-law, and my sister's boyfriend who I'd never met before, who all were ready to unload the truck as soon as we got here.
• Green Mormon Architect and family, who stopped by to help while we were unpacking on Saturday.
• Edgy and Dec (or is his blogonym now Flameman?), who would have helped, had I arrived two hours earlier, as I intended to.
• My brother-in-law L, who showed up Monday morning to mow our overgrown lawn.
  
• Tolkien Boy, Brozy, Samantha, and all the other friends and family we've seen and/or will see soon, reminding us of why we moved back to Utah.
  
• My boss, who said a couple weeks ago, "Hey, I heard you were looking for a full-time job. Do you want to work full-time for us?"

Life is good. I'm kind of exhausted now because we've been going nonstop for a couple weeks, but I'm happy. I spent a good portion of the drive here grinning, and I don't think it was just because I was in the moving truck, with not a screaming child in earshot.

Year Seven, Day One

This morning FoxyJ and I woke up in the loft of a farmhouse on Whidbey Island, with a view overlooking Useless Bay. Thanks to Tolkien Boy for changing his work schedule and skipping a class in order to give Foxy and me a night away from the kids.

And thanks, of course, to Foxy for six years of marriage.

African Elephants

A while back, Admissions Coworker submitted an essay to a New York Times contest and ended up being one of the finalists for a trip to Africa with Nick Kristof. Sadly, Nick chose someone else, but Admissions Coworker decided she didn't need Nick to go to Africa, so she bought herself a ticket and signed up to do some volunteer healthcare work (she's a nurse) in Uganda.

Part of the purpose of the Nick Kristof thing is to raise awareness of the health and living conditions in Africa, so Admissions Coworker has decided to contribute to this cause by blogging about her work in Uganda while she's there. And now I'm contributing to the cause by directing you, dear reader, to her blog. Check it out.

And for more on American adventures in African healthcare, also check out SkyeJ's blog about her Peace Corps experiences in Morocco.

The Illusion of Popularity

(Post #499)

It's convenient that my one and only friend has so many online personas: Theric, Tolkien Boy, Samantha Stevens, Ugly Swan, -L-, Melyngoch.... I suppose I ruin the illusion by telling you, though, don't I?

Is There No Drinking Fountain in This Closet?

Friday night I made up for the two missed opportunities I had blogged about Friday morning.

To the library coworker who had referred to me remarrying [a woman], I sent an email explaining that while she had not said anything unreasonable, I felt bad because I had not corrected her. I acknowledged that she surely didn't care about my sexual orientation, but that this was more for my sake than for hers. She emailed me back Saturday morning and thanked me for sharing and invited me to go out for coffee some time.

To the admissions coworker who had remarked at my not having kissed anyone until 21, I sent an email just sort of randomly saying, "Oh, by the way, I'm gay." I felt confident in doing so largely because she is also gay--not that this makes her any more accepting than my other coworkers [as she later said, "Being gay is more normal than you think. I mean, people think it's more normal than you think. Especially here. I mean, it's like, boring to be gay in Seattle."], but that she's done the whole coming out thing before so I hoped she'd understand my compulsion to tell people what in theory should not matter enough to tell. She did. She invited me to go out for a drink some time.

Tonight Admissions Coworker emailed because she had outed me to two other coworkers and she wasn't sure if I would be upset. The truth is that I had wanted her to spread the word, because that spares me having to make a big deal of it. This way, people know, if it comes up, it comes up, if it doesn't, it doesn't, and we can all proceed with life. She was glad to know I wasn't angry, and suggested we all--the five graduate student admissions readers and anyone else I want to come out to--go out for drinks.

Apparently the thing to do when one comes out of the closet is to have beverages of one kind or another. The funny thing is that I hate coffee and, having never drunk alcohol nor felt the need to, I'm not too anxious to start now. That doesn't stop me from going out with friends and, while they drink the beverage of their choice, having a Shirley Temple or something. Which Admissions Coworker finds amusing, I think, but that's okay. I find myself amusing too.

A Post About Tolkien Boy

Tolkien Boy mentioned last week that few blog posts have been written solely about him. He recognized this notable exception, but apparently that's not good enough for him. So this is a post about Tolkien Boy.

For more than two years now Tolkien Boy has been my best friend (which is in no way a slight to other best friends). In those two years he has motivated me to go to the gym regularly, he has provided consistently valuable feedback on my writing, and he has on countless occasions given me a shoulder to cry on, both figuratively and literally. I think it's safe to say that I have done all those things for him as well, which is one of the many things I value about our friendship: we are equals. At times the balance may shift to one side or another--lately, for example, I've felt rather needy--but over the past two years we have each had our moments of giving and receiving.

As most of my friends over the past five years have learned, Master Fob is a package deal. Befriending me means befriending my family, and Tolkien Boy has done just that since the moment Melyngoch introduced us. He is as good to FoxyJ, S-Boogie, and Little Dude as he is to me, and that is hugely important to me. It delights me to see the people I love love each other.

Despite the fact that TB knew more than most about the almost constant state of turmoil I was in, he was always supportive of my marriage up until the point I decided to end it. In the midst of all this, TB recognized that ultimately I wouldn't listen to whatever advice he or anyone else gave me, even if I solicited such advice, and that his unconditional friendship was needed more than his opinion. He was right, and I'm thankful to know I can process my thoughts with him without fear of judgment.

In summary, Tolkien Boy is a good person. If you aren't already his friend, you should be. The waiting list may be long, as he's quite the popular fellow, but don't worry--you can read his 200 or so blog posts, which are all as witty and insightful as they are lengthy, while you wait.

Best Friends

When I was twelve, my mom and sister and I moved into a different part of Honolulu than we had been living in. When one of the kids from church who had been dragged by his father to help us move in noticed I had several boxes marked "Lego," he recognized immediately and informed me that we would be great friends. Dandypratt and I did, in fact, become fast friends. There was only one problem: he already had a best friend. Dandy didn't seem to see anything wrong with having two best friends, but it seriously bothered me. I tried hard to be friends with the other best friend, and he was a decent enough fellow, but I couldn't help feeling threatened. I wanted to be the one and only best friend--doesn't the term "best" inherently imply that there can only be one? As it turned out, it was only a few months before the other best friend moved back to New Zealand, leaving me as Dandypratt's only best friend for the next six years. I felt guilty even then for being so pleased with this fact.

When I came to college in Utah and Dandy stayed back in Hawaii, it came time for a new best friend (Dandy remained my long distance best friend for a long time, but one needs a local best friend in college in order to go on double dates and hang out at girls' apartments). Fabio, the resident assistant on my floor in the dorms, filled the role. Fabio had served a mission in Hawaii so we had that connection, and he was also a bit on the geeky side, which meant that (a) I could hang out with him without violating my social boundaries, and (b) I didn't find him as threatening as less geeky guys. We quickly became best friends, but it wasn't long before I realized he had another best friend, a less geeky guy who (a) existed on a different social sphere than me, and (b) intimidated me. I only felt a little guilty for being happy when Fabio stopped hanging out with the other best friend because he (Fabio) had started dating (and eventually married) the other guy's ex-girlfriend.

The interesting thing is that I don't require this level of exclusivity of myself. I currently have two best friends*. They've met, in fact, and don't appear to hate each other, which is nice. I'm glad my friends aren't as neurotic as I am. I'll do my best to return the favor.


*I don't include Foxy J in this number because the title "wife," while including all the importance, rights, and privileges of "best friend," means a lot more. Suffice it to say that Foxy is, among other things, my closest friend.