Updates

Long time no post!

In summary:
-We live in Chicago now. It's pretty awesome. Our apartment is lovely and cozy and slightly less horribly cramped than the one in NYC, and there's a Great Lake pretty close by, which is nice.
-I've started classes; this quarter I'm taking Introduction to the Study of Religion (required class for all firsties), Beginning Koine Greek I, and Renaissance Romance.
-Adam has started work as the Director of Christian Formation for Children and Youth at a church outside the city. He loves it, but it IS only part-time, so we're not out of the financial woods yet.
-Because Adam's job is a million miles away, we bought my parents' Yaris. So we have a car now. So...that happened. I still don't really know if I'm happy about it, but whatever, you do what you gotta do.
-I am still editing part-time, though I'm also looking for a nice work-study job.
-CB and Lenore are still very happy and healthy, and CB may have even put on a little bit of weight! Yay!

And that's it. I'll try to write more often, I swear. Really.

Romney and Ryan: A Farce

Mitt Romney: "Hrm...I have a problem. I have horrible policy ideas and I'm not at all relatable, but I'm not actually a bad guy. This is gonna hurt me with the base! They expect an evil, soulless, unscrupulous jerk like Newt Gingrich or Michelle Bachmann! What should I do?!"

Paul Ryan: "Oh, hey there, Mitt! I was just viciously slashing aid to the poor and so disproportionately affecting the downtrodden in my budget proposals that the Roman Catholic Church has spoken out against me and my callous disregard for the very people Jesus told me to help! What are you up to?"

Mitt Romney (stroking his chin thoughtfully): "Not much, Paul...not much..."

http://www.boston.com/politicalintelligence/2012/08/11/mitt-romney-chooses-paul-ryan-running-mate/SYa5KjwAikhF92jR2MMmeI/story.html

Freakout!

Stress! I just got my first assignment for my copy editing job, and man, it's HUGE-- I've got 98,000 words of work ahead of me. Between that and my columns and trying to learn German and study for my French reading exam (and school hasn't even started yet!) and orchestrating yet another expensive cross-country move...man, I have no idea how I'm gonna do all this! But then again, I kind of thrive on having too much on my plate. I like to feel very busy and important, I guess.

And as stressful as I find freelance stuff-- I nearly died of stress that year I did nothing but freelance-- it's still fun to go to parties where people ask me, "So, what do you do?" and get to answer back, "Oh, I'm a writer." That's right, bitches: I'm a real, live, honest-to-goodness professional writer. I may be poor as hell, but at least I love what I do.

High-five for growing up and actually becoming what I always wanted to become. :)

Why I Left Pinterest

My husband and I just spent the last three weeks in Florida with my mother and my middle sister, visiting my grandma at her home outside of Tampa. We had a great time, and part of having a great time, obviously, is eating awesome food: Indian food, Greek food (twice!), pizza, seafood (including fried alligator, YUM), and pretty much all the ice cream we could manage to shove down our gullets. We sampled various new Oreo flavors (my personal favorites are the ones with the mint filling) and introduced my grandmother to the wide variety of M&Ms available these days (almond FTW!)

So, naturally, I gained seven pounds.

I want you to read the above sentence and think about how you feel about it.

Now I want you to read that sentence again, this time with the knowledge that I am 5'4" (I used to think I was 5'3", but according to my doctor I was wrong) and that before I gained seven pounds, I weighed 99 lbs exactly.

At that weight, my BMI was exactly 17.0--the "underweight" category begins at 18.5. I was pretty underweight, my friends. And now that I've gained weight, my BMI is 18.2. This means that I am still underweight. I have always been small, and always been very active. I am ineligible to give blood, since the Red Cross required you to weigh 110 pounds in order to donate. Several doctors have actually insisted that I work hard on gaining more weight. I have been told that I must gain at least fifteen more pounds before Adam and I start trying to have a baby, because low maternal weights can contribute to low birth weights for babies. By all possible measures, gaining seven pounds was good for me and good for my body.

And yet, do you know how I feel? I feel guilty.

Because in this country, I am constantly inundated by pressure to lose weight. Always. Every time I watch TV there's a commercial for a weight-loss supplement or a diet plan or a home gym that can give me rock hard abs. Every magazine I read tells me that if I just eat more blueberries/take the stairs more often/try these five easy ab workouts at home, I can lose weight--the assumption being that I should lose weight, that everyone should. The expectation these days is that everyone should want to lose weight, all the time, no matter what. There is no exception for people who are already skinny or already healthy (remember, these are not the same). The cultural impetus to lose weight is universal and impenetrable, no matter how old you are, no matter what nationality you represent, however many kids you've had, however many fabulous things you've accomplished in life.

But beyond media, I get this message from a more influential source: people I know. Interestingly, it's never from people who know me well--my family and my close friends--but it's a pretty constant message from acquaintances. There was the co-worker who berated me for eating avocados because they're "so fattening." There was the Facebook friend who wrote horrible things about fat people on Facebook, and then acted surprised when said fat people were, in fact, deeply hurt and offended.

But there is no worse offender than Pinterest.

I cannot continue to use Pinterest because every other pin my friends (mostly my girlfriends) display is devoted to weight loss. There's "thinspiration" (pictures of super skinny girls--always girls!--and horrific taglines like "nothing tastes as good as skinny feels," which is absurd because, um, have you ever even tried a Cadbury Creme Egg?!) and "fitspiration" (pictures of super muscular girls, and horrific taglines about "discipline" and "self-control" and "sacrifice," as though weight loss should be approached with the moral gravitas of, say, feeding the hungry or something) and various other random pins involving The Five Foods That Cut Belly Fat! or How To Lose Weight At Work.

I can't take it anymore. I just can't. I cannot stand being surrounded by five million little nitpicks, five million little reminders of imperfection. And I don't have to. So...I quit.

"But wait a minute," you're saying. "You're thin! You have privilege! You shouldn't be complaining about this!"

Society's extreme obsession with weight loss and appearance, often masked as "concern" over "health" (apparently mental health doesn't count), hurts everyone, skinny people included. Just as sexism hurts men, too--just ask any guy who ever enjoyed home ec or wanted to change his name when he got married or chose to be a stay-at-home dad-- the pressure to lose weight, to constantly be judging oneself and constantly finding oneself wanting, is exhausting to everyone, no matter how much they weigh. Fat people are shamed for being fat; thin people are made to feel as though their weight is the most attractive and important thing about them, and are warned that to lose that "asset" is to lose friendship, love, social approval, even one's life.

And I am done with that--absolutely, irrevocably done. There is so much more to my life than what I weigh. There are so many more important things to be doing than weighing myself. And by cutting out Pinterest (and hiding a few people from my newsfeed, natch) I can at least minimize direct contact with this sick philosophy.

Peace out, Pinterest. I've already planned my wedding, anyway.

The Real Tragedy

Yesterday the General Convention approved liturgies for same-sex blessings. While same-sex blessings have been happening in plenty of dioceses as a "generous pastoral response" by certain Bishops, this is an official liturgy that has been created and authorized for this exact purpose.

So, of course, the usual predictable people freaked out.

Almost every Bishop who voted against the measure (and there were only about 40 or so, so it was pretty easy to read all those responses on Episcopal Cafe) mentioned something about not wanting to piss people off in their statements before the House. Almost all of them said something like, "We don't want to upset the rest of the Communion," or "We can't lose any more friends," or "Some of the other Christians will be mad at us."

You know, perhaps this is going to make me sound young and silly, but I've gotta say it: either marrying same-sex couples is the right thing to do, or it's not. It doesn't matter what other people think. Either it's right, or it's wrong. And the majority of the people in our Church (and perhaps even a number of the people who ended up voting against the blessings) know, deep down in their hearts, that's it's the right thing to do.

I'm struggling to find the part in the Gospels where Jesus says, "Well, this is the right thing to do, but let's not tell anyone else because it'll make them upset." Actually, Jesus was pretty good at pissing people off by doing the right thing.

Let's be more like Jesus, m'kay?

And of course, once the resolution passed, South Carolina got all blustery and left the convention. I guess I was raised differently; where I'm from, taking your ball and going home when other people don't do what you want them to do is childish and irresponsible. It's especially annoying to me when this happens because it seems to me that the majority of the Church actually wants to call these ceremonies marriages; we only used "blessings" as a concession to the anti-gay folks. There was give and take, and ultimately, about 75% of the church said "Yes, we want this." Sorry, but that's how being a member of an organization works. There were concessions, there was slow and deliberate movement, and still, just because they didn't get exactly what they wanted, they're going to go home and pout.

I think that's sad, and if I lived in that diocese, I'd be pretty embarrassed at how my representatives were acting.

And that reminds me of something Gene Robinson was saying when I saw him at convention. He was talking about how sad it made him that a few dioceses in the Episcopal Church had broken away when he was consecrated as the first openly gay Bishop. "The tragedy isn't that we disagree with each other," he told us. "The tragedy is when we leave the table."

If you leave the table, you're not hurting anyone but yourself. You're not silencing anyone's voice but your own. You're only making yourself look petulant. It makes sense when seven-year-olds don't realize this, but grown men and women? Bishops in Christ's holy and apostolic Church?

Now that's a tragedy.

A Young Person's Report From General Convention

Late last week, Adam and I went over to Indianapolis to attend the General Convention of the Episcopal Church. (We only went to convention for a day, but the whole thing lasts about a week, and many people, especially the people who have to be there like the delegates and the Bishops, stay for the entire length of time.)

For those of you who aren't Episcopalians, here's a little explanation: every three years, the entire Episcopal Church gets together and decides stuff. We're not a democratic church, per se, because we still have a pretty hierarchical structure, but we do incorporate democratic principles into our governance. So every three years, the two Houses of the Church meet and discuss/debate/pass/reject changes to Church policy and structure. The House of Bishops is composed of all the Bishops in the Church, both current and retired, and is headed up by the Presiding Bishop (the official head of our Church). The House of Deputies is composed of parties of deputies from each diocese, and each diocese gets the same amount of deputies in the House. (In this way, it's quite different from, say, the US House of Representatives, in which representatives are allocated by population.) Some deputies are ordained; others are laypeople. I've observed that there's usually an equal number of each order represented.

So the deputies and the Bishops and anyone else who's interested all show up at the convention, and they consider drafted resolutions, and they write new resolutions, and they amend previous resolutions, and then they vote on them. Resolutions have to be passed by BOTH houses in exactly the same language in order for them to become Church policy. And pretty much anything can be debated and decided at convention-- from changing the Canons of the Church to reorganizing the structure of certain branches of Church governance to changing or emphasizing certain social priorities to budgeting and passing new economic policies. Also, during most legislative hearings, people are permitted to testify in favor or against the pending resolutions, and pretty much anyone can speak--experts, Bishops, priests, regular people in the pews, whomever. It's all messy and kind of frustrating, and that's pretty much how I think faith in action should be--all over the place and difficult and kind of a pain in the ass. Like, y'know, democracy.

 Adam and I spent all of Friday at convention, and I was pretty much in heaven. Everyone we met kept saying, "Wow, you WANTED to come here? But this stuff is so boring and bureaucratic!" And I just kept thinking, well, yeah, that's why I like it. You're talking to the girl who did Model UN in both high school and college (even going on to the National Model UN in my junior year) and was a delegate to Girls' State and did mock Congress and pretty much gets a contact high from hearing people cite Robert's Rules of Order. I love this shit.

Anyways, we went to Eucharist in the morning, which was interesting and kind of weird, seeing as I don't think I've ever worshiped with two thousand people at once. I dunno how the megachurch folks can stand it! Communion takes forever with that many people. At least they used real bread, like they do at GTS and, y'know, every other church in the world except St. John's (*insert loud throat-clearing here*). And also, you will notice that there was none of that intinction nonsense going on, since again, ONLY ST. JOHN'S DOES THAT. :D

What was cool was that, since the Episcopal Church is worldwide and there were representatives from all the dioceses in the world, parts of each Eucharist every day were done in different languages. That day the included language was Hmong, which was cool to hear; the day before, I've been told, was Spanish. It's too bad we didn't come on the day they did French--I could have said the Lord's Prayer in French!

After Eucharist we sat in on a legislative session in the House of Deputies, which pretty much consisted of people arguing about whether or not the NEXT convention should be paperless, to which I say: that's a great idea, but maybe let's focus on this convention FIRST. ;) We got to see them all voting and stuff, which was cool, because they have a whole system for counting votes. First they just have everyone say "yes" or "no" aloud, and then if it's not a clear majority they make everyone hold up colored cards, green for yes and red for no. If it's not clear from that showing, either, then it's time for a vote tally, and everyone has to vote using an electronic keypad. Then the votes are tallied by machine and the percentages show up on the front screens. It's nifty!

Here's a picture of the "yes" vote:

Then we sat in on a House of Bishops meeting, but it was dreadfully dull since they were pretty much just talking to one another about how much they love each other.

And then we wandered around the exhibition hall for most of the rest of the day. We met lots of new friends and saw lots of old ones, including folks from GTS, the former curate of our home parish, and a friend of mine from high school (!). We got tons of cool buttons, and each of us bought a tee-shirt; Adam got one that says "Blessed Are The Peacemakers" and I got one that says "God is not a boy's name" from the EWC.

I've been pleased with the way the resolutions have gone so far--I was very glad to see that they passed a resolution prohibiting discrimination against transgendered clergy and laypersons, and I was equally glad to see that they refused to authorize The Message as an appropriate translation to be used in church. (Explanation: The Message is a paraphrase of the Bible, not an actual translation. While it's useful for Bible study or personal reflection or Sunday school/youth group lessons, I don't find paraphrase appropriate for actual services. We hear so many paraphrases of Biblical teachings already in our culture--most of them inaccurate-- that I think we should use Sunday services as an opportunity to confront people with as accurate a translation of the original Greek/Hebrew/Aramaic as we can manage to produce.) I'm encouraged by the selling of 815 (the church's main building in NYC) and the relocation of the central offices elsewhere, as well as with many of the other restructuring changes, although I'm skeptical of the Tea Party-esque ethos of many of those advocating restructuring.

I feel kind of torn about the presence of young people at the convention. I was both heartened to see that there were many, many young people there, and disheartened to note that almost none of them were there in an official capacity (as deputies, to deliver testimony, etc.) It seems to me that most of the young people who came just arrived on their own initiative--which is great, because it's nice to know that other people my age care that much about the Church, but also kind of sucks because it means the Church still isn't giving us any authority and still doesn't really care that much about involving us in governance.

I think the Church often displays the same attitude towards young people as it does towards poor people: it's eager to help them, to provide aid and comfort, to go out and come to them, but it's really very loathe to actually include them, to consider them a valid part and parcel of the Church, to consider them full members rather than just beneficiaries. Does that make sense?

Anyways, we had a great time, and I wish we could have stayed longer. Overall, General Convention made me feel very good about our denomination and the direction in which we're headed. And in light of the Presbyterians' contentious General Assembly last week in Pittsburgh, and in light of our own relatively drama-free meeting, it was nice not to be the "controversial" church group this year! :)

A Possibility

Adam's applying for a full-time youth ministry director position, complete with benefits. I don't usually ask for this sort of thing in this context, but: prayers and good vibes and well-wishes would be appreciated. We need this.