Yesterday I bought a metal bed frame at Goodwill for five dollars. This means that the mattress and box spring provided by my landlords no longer have to sit on the floor, which will make me feel more like a real person as opposed to a poor college student. I also bought twin-size flat and fitted sheets for $1.50 each; these will replace the queen-size sheets I've been using on my twin-size bed, which will also make me feel more like a real person. I also raided the supply of various and sundry used bed parts in the house above me and traded my springy box spring for a springless wooden base. The first time I sat down on my less-than-firm mattress atop those old and lifeless springs, I felt like I was out at sea and knew that I would need to make a change; after two weeks of wavy sleep I finally took the opportunity yesterday to make that change.
I haven't tried out my new bed yet because S-Boogie and Little Dude get the bedroom when they're over and I'd rather sleep on the couch than try to sleep in the same room as S-Boogie, who talks and cries and sings in her sleep. Tonight, though, I will sleep in my new bed. I'm looking forward to it.
Sunday, April 29, 2007
Friday, April 27, 2007
In and Out, Out and In
When I moved to Seattle, I more or less went back in the closet. This wasn't a conscious decision; it just happened. Thanks to the internet, Dialogue, and the local media, everyone in Utah knows I'm gay. In Seattle, though, my fame is not exactly widespread. Telling people here that I'm gay would have required just that--telling them--and the truth is that I haven't done that in years. To write an essay or a blog post and let people read it or not read it as they see fit is much more passive and therefore more my style than forcing an "I'm gay" into casual conversation. And casually mentioning it would have required me to explain that yes, I am married, but no, I'm not some over-repressed religious zealot out to protect "traditional" marriage.
You'd think that it would be easier to slip it in now that I'm getting divorced.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear about your divorce. Why are you getting divorced?"
"Because I'm gay."
The reality, though, is that no one would be so rude as to ask why I'm getting divorced. It's sort of a personal question and most people respect those kinds of social boundaries. I've had several opportunities in the last couple days to come out to various friends, but I have a hard time doing it.
"Wow, you didn't have your first kiss until you were 21? Were you really shy?"
No, I could have said, I just wasn't particularly interested in girls, and boys weren't an option because I was Mormon. Instead, I shrugged and said, "I guess."
"It'll be interesting to see how your kids react when and if you remarry, if your new wife wants to have more kids."
Yes, I could have said, I'm not sure whether I want to have more kids, but if I remarry that's something my husband and I will have to work out. Instead I made a strange guttural noise and a funny face.
The problem is that I have two conflicting values here: the first is that I really do want my friends to know that I'm gay. No, it's not who I am, but it's an important part of who I am and I'd like for my friends to know me well enough to know the important parts. On the other hand, I don't want to force the important parts of me onto my friends. I don't want to force myself on anyone. And at the same time, I don't want my sexuality to appear as important to me as it probably really it is.
I think I just need a t-shirt that says HI, I'M GAY, and I'll wear it to school and work for a week or two until everyone knows without me having to tell them.
You'd think that it would be easier to slip it in now that I'm getting divorced.
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear about your divorce. Why are you getting divorced?"
"Because I'm gay."
The reality, though, is that no one would be so rude as to ask why I'm getting divorced. It's sort of a personal question and most people respect those kinds of social boundaries. I've had several opportunities in the last couple days to come out to various friends, but I have a hard time doing it.
"Wow, you didn't have your first kiss until you were 21? Were you really shy?"
No, I could have said, I just wasn't particularly interested in girls, and boys weren't an option because I was Mormon. Instead, I shrugged and said, "I guess."
"It'll be interesting to see how your kids react when and if you remarry, if your new wife wants to have more kids."
Yes, I could have said, I'm not sure whether I want to have more kids, but if I remarry that's something my husband and I will have to work out. Instead I made a strange guttural noise and a funny face.
The problem is that I have two conflicting values here: the first is that I really do want my friends to know that I'm gay. No, it's not who I am, but it's an important part of who I am and I'd like for my friends to know me well enough to know the important parts. On the other hand, I don't want to force the important parts of me onto my friends. I don't want to force myself on anyone. And at the same time, I don't want my sexuality to appear as important to me as it probably really it is.
I think I just need a t-shirt that says HI, I'M GAY, and I'll wear it to school and work for a week or two until everyone knows without me having to tell them.
Master Fob Kicks Butt and Takes Names
Well, actually, I didn't take any names, but it wasn't necessary. If it were, I would have.
On Wednesday I got a paycheck instead of direct deposit because I just opened a new bank account and it takes a while to change the direct deposit. So I picked up the check and went to an ATM to deposit it. I understood that ATM deposits made in the early evening don't get posted until the next day, but when I came home and checked my online banking, it showed that the available balance was a hundred dollars more than it had been the day before. I wondered why that was, but didn't worry about it too much. I'd been wanting to transfer the bulk of what I had in checking into savings, so I transfered most of my available balance--the transfer amount was twenty dollars more than Tuesday's ending balance, but I figured if the bank let me make the transfer and it was less than the available balance, there shouldn't be a problem.
Yesterday I checked my account and it showed Balance: -$20.oo and Available Balance: $80.00. The negative balance worried me, but the available balance was positive and I knew my deposited check should be going through, so I didn't worry too much.
This morning I checked and the deposit showed, but a $20.00 overdraft fee also showed. I was quite upset. I considered complaining through the online customer service form, but decided I needed a more immediate resolution than that. I ignored my aversion to phone conversations, particularly potentially confrontational phone conversations, and called. The customer service representative explained that although the bank lets you use a hundred dollars of a deposit made after the daily cut-off, you can't actually use it do immediate things like making transfers. I pointed out that if this was the case then the online banking program shouldn't have allowed me to make the transfer. She said the overdraft fee was non-refundable. I said this was unacceptable.
Another ten times or so she explained that there was nothing that she could do and I explained that I would not accept that answer. Finally she agreed to let me talk to a supervisor. The supervisor said politely that I was the one in the wrong but since I was being a crybaby they'd give me my money back, just this once. I said politely that the bank was indeed the one in the wrong, but I didn't need her to acknowledge that so long as I got my money back. She thanked me for choosing Bank of [country name removed to protect the bank] and told me to have a nice day.
I am proud of myself. I was not mean or rude, but I was firm. I refused to be ignored, and I got the service I demanded. If you don't realize how significant this is, you don't know me very well. This new, assertive Master Fob is a development of recent years and has only shown his face a handful of times so far.
I think I like him.
On Wednesday I got a paycheck instead of direct deposit because I just opened a new bank account and it takes a while to change the direct deposit. So I picked up the check and went to an ATM to deposit it. I understood that ATM deposits made in the early evening don't get posted until the next day, but when I came home and checked my online banking, it showed that the available balance was a hundred dollars more than it had been the day before. I wondered why that was, but didn't worry about it too much. I'd been wanting to transfer the bulk of what I had in checking into savings, so I transfered most of my available balance--the transfer amount was twenty dollars more than Tuesday's ending balance, but I figured if the bank let me make the transfer and it was less than the available balance, there shouldn't be a problem.
Yesterday I checked my account and it showed Balance: -$20.oo and Available Balance: $80.00. The negative balance worried me, but the available balance was positive and I knew my deposited check should be going through, so I didn't worry too much.
This morning I checked and the deposit showed, but a $20.00 overdraft fee also showed. I was quite upset. I considered complaining through the online customer service form, but decided I needed a more immediate resolution than that. I ignored my aversion to phone conversations, particularly potentially confrontational phone conversations, and called. The customer service representative explained that although the bank lets you use a hundred dollars of a deposit made after the daily cut-off, you can't actually use it do immediate things like making transfers. I pointed out that if this was the case then the online banking program shouldn't have allowed me to make the transfer. She said the overdraft fee was non-refundable. I said this was unacceptable.
Another ten times or so she explained that there was nothing that she could do and I explained that I would not accept that answer. Finally she agreed to let me talk to a supervisor. The supervisor said politely that I was the one in the wrong but since I was being a crybaby they'd give me my money back, just this once. I said politely that the bank was indeed the one in the wrong, but I didn't need her to acknowledge that so long as I got my money back. She thanked me for choosing Bank of [country name removed to protect the bank] and told me to have a nice day.
I am proud of myself. I was not mean or rude, but I was firm. I refused to be ignored, and I got the service I demanded. If you don't realize how significant this is, you don't know me very well. This new, assertive Master Fob is a development of recent years and has only shown his face a handful of times so far.
I think I like him.
Under Construction
Not sold on the new look? Don't worry, neither am I. It may take a while to refine, though, so bear with me. It may also take a while to get all the sidebar links back on track. Your absence does not mean that I hate you. "Gay Mormon Fobs" will likely go, but those of you who comment here will make your way into the Honorary Fob list.
Thursday, April 26, 2007
Interview With the Vampires
Because I don't publicly reveal enough intimate details about myself on a regular basis, my friends Theric and Tolkien Boy have teamed up to expose the skeletons in Master Fob's closet.
Th.: Once upon a time there was a ... well, there were a lot of things. Which one did you have in mind exactly?
MF: I was thinking of something along the lines of a souffle.
TB: You've just written the great American novel. What happens in the seventh chapter?
MF: Really, TB, you should know me and my writing well enough to answer that question yourself. The same thing happens in the seventh chapter as happened in the first, second, third, fifth, and sixth: The protagonist stares at another guy's back while thinking angsty self-reflective thoughts. Chapter Four is a flashback to his angsty childhood.
Th.: Between you and me, how come you've never invested in the daisy business?
MF: It just seems so, I don't know, invasive. I mean, really, even cows deserve some personal space.
Ooooohhhhhhh, you said daiSy. Hm. More or less the same reason, I'd have to say.
TB: Shakespeare once wrote: "And we all know security is mortal's chiefest enemy." Some variations on this might include "And we all know dexterity is teenagers' temerity" and "And we all know that piety is just holy anxiety." Given all this, what is fobbery, and how do you justify that?
MF: Well, we all know fobbery is a fob's fobbest fobby. That's justification enough, isn't it?
Th.: I'm of the strict opinion that seventy-five is seventy-five is seventy-five. But this one stumps me (maybe you can help): What's seventy-six?
MF: The bicentennial? Your birth year?
TB: Boots are made for walking--but is that all they can do? What are your five favorite non-walking uses for boots?
MF: Ooh, a list!
Th.: Pleated pants, yes or no? Defend your answer.
MF: I'm offended that you would ask such a thing.
TB: You board a bus only to discover that it's travelling in time rather than space. At what stops do you categorically refuse to get off? And when I say "get off" I mean "disembark."
MF: (Thank you for the clarification.) I pretty much refuse to get off (by which I mean disembark) at any point before the present. The past is so yesterday. I'm all about the future. I might make an exception for the sixties. I won't go to San Francisco, though, unless I'm wearing some flowers in my hair.
Th.: If God were to call up this evening and say he was sick and tired of all these ridiculous hiccup cures and he wants to settle on just one ridiculous hiccup cure--one that'll work every time--and he wants you to choose that cure, what will you tell him?
MF: If God were to call up this evening there are a lot of things I would tell him, and probably more things that I would ask him. As for the hiccup cure, I'd suggest to him that he's being too narrrow-minded and that really, there is no one-size-fits-all solution but that he should adopt a more relativistic view of the universe; all ridiculous hiccup cures lead to happiness.
TB: You wake up one morning to discover that your past life has been a dream and you are, in fact, a playboy millionaire movie star. Who are you, and can you explain why you're not wearing any pajamas to the interested press?
MF: I have enough money that no explanations are necessary. Please, now, let me be--all this questioning tires me.
Having been exposed, I am now ready to expose others. Let me know if you want to be interviewed and I'll send five questions your way. Be warned, though, that if you ask for the questions and then don't answer them on your blog, you'll anger the chain-blogging gods and they will bring their electronic wrath down upon you.
Th.: Once upon a time there was a ... well, there were a lot of things. Which one did you have in mind exactly?
MF: I was thinking of something along the lines of a souffle.
TB: You've just written the great American novel. What happens in the seventh chapter?
MF: Really, TB, you should know me and my writing well enough to answer that question yourself. The same thing happens in the seventh chapter as happened in the first, second, third, fifth, and sixth: The protagonist stares at another guy's back while thinking angsty self-reflective thoughts. Chapter Four is a flashback to his angsty childhood.
Th.: Between you and me, how come you've never invested in the daisy business?
MF: It just seems so, I don't know, invasive. I mean, really, even cows deserve some personal space.
Ooooohhhhhhh, you said daiSy. Hm. More or less the same reason, I'd have to say.
TB: Shakespeare once wrote: "And we all know security is mortal's chiefest enemy." Some variations on this might include "And we all know dexterity is teenagers' temerity" and "And we all know that piety is just holy anxiety." Given all this, what is fobbery, and how do you justify that?
MF: Well, we all know fobbery is a fob's fobbest fobby. That's justification enough, isn't it?
Th.: I'm of the strict opinion that seventy-five is seventy-five is seventy-five. But this one stumps me (maybe you can help): What's seventy-six?
MF: The bicentennial? Your birth year?
TB: Boots are made for walking--but is that all they can do? What are your five favorite non-walking uses for boots?
MF: Ooh, a list!
- As flower pots.
- Kicking.
- Keeping one's feet dry.
- Hiking.
- Accompanying fishnet stockings to a nightclub in Spain.
Th.: Pleated pants, yes or no? Defend your answer.
MF: I'm offended that you would ask such a thing.
TB: You board a bus only to discover that it's travelling in time rather than space. At what stops do you categorically refuse to get off? And when I say "get off" I mean "disembark."
MF: (Thank you for the clarification.) I pretty much refuse to get off (by which I mean disembark) at any point before the present. The past is so yesterday. I'm all about the future. I might make an exception for the sixties. I won't go to San Francisco, though, unless I'm wearing some flowers in my hair.
Th.: If God were to call up this evening and say he was sick and tired of all these ridiculous hiccup cures and he wants to settle on just one ridiculous hiccup cure--one that'll work every time--and he wants you to choose that cure, what will you tell him?
MF: If God were to call up this evening there are a lot of things I would tell him, and probably more things that I would ask him. As for the hiccup cure, I'd suggest to him that he's being too narrrow-minded and that really, there is no one-size-fits-all solution but that he should adopt a more relativistic view of the universe; all ridiculous hiccup cures lead to happiness.
TB: You wake up one morning to discover that your past life has been a dream and you are, in fact, a playboy millionaire movie star. Who are you, and can you explain why you're not wearing any pajamas to the interested press?
MF: I have enough money that no explanations are necessary. Please, now, let me be--all this questioning tires me.
Having been exposed, I am now ready to expose others. Let me know if you want to be interviewed and I'll send five questions your way. Be warned, though, that if you ask for the questions and then don't answer them on your blog, you'll anger the chain-blogging gods and they will bring their electronic wrath down upon you.
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Things That Make Me Happy
1. Avocado on saltines with just a touch of salt.
2. Chocolate milk.
3. 1 & 2 together.
4. New music.
5. Comic books from the library.
6. MARC records.
7. Authority files.
8. Blog comments.
9. The internet.
10. Cap'n Crunch.
11. Lists.
2. Chocolate milk.
3. 1 & 2 together.
4. New music.
5. Comic books from the library.
6. MARC records.
7. Authority files.
8. Blog comments.
9. The internet.
10. Cap'n Crunch.
11. Lists.
Things I Obsess Over That Will Never Happen As Long As I Continue to Obsess Over Them
1. While holding my son near a rail on a balcony or bridge I will accidentally drop him. Or he will jump out of my arms while I'm not holding tight enough.
2. I will accidentally make an obscenely crude sexual comment in a very inappropriate situation to do so, like when talking to a library patron. An elderly and delicate library patron.
3. I will make an inadvertently racist comment while talking to a Black person. And then try to apologize for it and explain that really I'm not a racist at all, but only manage to dig myself into a deeper hole.
4. I will give into the frequent impulse I have to touch people in inappropriate places. Women more than men, really--it's not sexual at all, just an irrational impulse.
5. I will end a phone conversation with a library patron--or worse, with a potential employer--with "I love you."
6. I will make an incoherent comment in class when I have been nodding in and out of sleep.
7. I will call someone I should know better than I do by the wrong name. (I actually have done this one before.)
8. I will accidentally step on a small child's head and crush it.
9. I will accidentally stab someone--probably a small child and probably in the face--while carrying a knife across the kitchen.
10. I will walk out the door without my pants on and not realize it until I get to work.
2. I will accidentally make an obscenely crude sexual comment in a very inappropriate situation to do so, like when talking to a library patron. An elderly and delicate library patron.
3. I will make an inadvertently racist comment while talking to a Black person. And then try to apologize for it and explain that really I'm not a racist at all, but only manage to dig myself into a deeper hole.
4. I will give into the frequent impulse I have to touch people in inappropriate places. Women more than men, really--it's not sexual at all, just an irrational impulse.
5. I will end a phone conversation with a library patron--or worse, with a potential employer--with "I love you."
6. I will make an incoherent comment in class when I have been nodding in and out of sleep.
7. I will call someone I should know better than I do by the wrong name. (I actually have done this one before.)
8. I will accidentally step on a small child's head and crush it.
9. I will accidentally stab someone--probably a small child and probably in the face--while carrying a knife across the kitchen.
10. I will walk out the door without my pants on and not realize it until I get to work.
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