November 4th was a big day.
We successfully elected Obama into office only to later find out that California’s Prop 8 was passed.
On the same day. this country elected a man who is half-black into the highest office in the land and denied same sex couples the right to marry the person they love. It ain’t civil and it sure as hell isn’t right. It got me to thinking about how things are closer to home.
I live in Birmingham, Alabama - a place famous for jailing Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and for the bombing of the 16th Street Baptist Church. Our city has a black mayor who himself is embroiled in controversy after controversy, including a discrimination lawsuit brought against him by Central Alabama Pride when he refused to recognize Gay Pride Week as had been done in previous administrations, or allow gay pride flags to be hung in the progressive 5 Points neighborhood where they have appeared for several years prior.
Great. A black man who feels led by God to speak out about the abomination of homosexuality is running my city. A man who a few short years ago could have himself been killed for drinking out of the wrong water fountain is so fucking far away from reality on his ego-inflated high horse that he has the gaul to look down on people who are just seeking the right to be who they are and not have to hide.
Mayor Larry Langford, kiss my white, homosexual, outspoken, voting ass. I don’t care if you don’t recognize me and my relationship and I don’t give a happy hot damn if your god is offended by the love I share with my partner.
See, the god I believe in doesn’t think love is offensive. Instead, that god thinks small minded, hypocritical bigots are.
Just a quick status update; I will be out of town later this week, traveling to Pennsylvania to work with one of my clients for a couple of days. Of course my laptop will be with me and I will still be available via email or Instant Messaging. I just wanted everyone to know that response time will be a bit slower than usual as I will be working on-site out of town this week.
I’m admittedly a fan of Jennifer Hudson.
I loved her on "American Idol" and was amazed by her theatrical debut in Dreamgirls. That she has now lost her mother, brother and 7 year old nephew to murder just brings home the fact that in this day and age, no one is safe anymore.
Murder is a terrible crime there’s no doubt, but when it comes to the abuse and/or murder of a child, I’m afraid there is little hope that I could ever run for public office because I don’t think any punishment is harsh enough for someone who would intentionally harm a child - ever. Not under any circumstances, or to quote the gatekeeper of the Great and Powerful OZ, "not nobody, not no how".
It is at times such as these that I am thankful for what I have in life. I may not have a child of my own yet but I have an adorable nephew. That same anger boils in me when I learn that his father - my brother - has fallen down on the job once again and is not being a father to his child or a husband to his wife.
There are no excuses good enough for neglecting or abusing a child. If there are voices in your head you shouldn’t be attempting to parent a child in the first place because as a parent it is only the voices of your children that matter. If you’re on drugs or embracing some other addiction, the same holds true - the only monkey on your back should be your little one.
I pride myself on being an open and understanding sort but I cannot understand how anyone could harm a child, nor do I want to. When the anger boils over you turn the heat off, you don’t throw the pot.
I’m heartbroken tonight for Jennifer Hudson’s family and their tremendous loss just as I am for my nephew who will likely be another mark on the stats sheet of children growing up without a father.
Take some goddamned responsibility, people. Live up to your obligations and take some responsibility. And don’t ever - EVER take it out on a child. No matter how bad things are, how hopeless the situation may seem, there is always another way.
I love my dog.
Cooper, or "Coop" as we’ve taken to calling him, will be eight weeks old tomorrow, making him two months old by human standards. I decided yesterday that this must be the onset of the dog version of those terrible twos I’ve heard so much about with human children.
For the first time yesterday, Coop seemed as though he was on some sort of doggie crack, running laps around the back yard that he treated so timidly just days ago. When a dinner guest came to visit last night he was still in rare form, deciding that every chew toy (of which my left arm apparently is one) was out to get him and must die.
Did I mention that I love my dog?
Oh, he’s also started barking when he wants attention which is cute for about three and a half seconds. Now before you get the idea that Rio (my partner) and I are complete doggy pushovers I should tell you that Coop eats only IAMS puppy food (dry) and the occasional treat. And paper.
And pine cones, gardenias and azaleas. But I digress.
After the exhaustion set in from yesterday’s Crackfest ‘08 and we retired to bed, Coop slept like a champ. Unfortunately, at some point during the night he apparently fell off the bed and ended up sleeping in a pile of clothes on the floor until Rio woke up and found him. After that, Coop burrowed himself deep under the covers and beneath the protection of my body pillow, against my leg until we pulled ourselves from bed sometime around 7:30.
Yeah. 7:30 a.m.
On a Saturday.
I love my dog.
I still believe that people are good at heart. Despite what the news media would have us believe - it is no coincidence that the standard motto is ‘if it bleeds, it leads’ - people want good things for others just as much as they want good things for themselves.
My recent skin cancer scare led several well-meaning people to ask if I minded if they prayed for me. While this is a standard practice for most, it made me smile because I am not a Christian and it is taken for granted these days that everyone is. The fact of the matter is that I don’t subscribe to any belief system over another but I find my own ideals more fostered within the Buddhist faith. When I was in the Air Force where a religious declaration is required on your dog tags, Buddhism was my choice.
Still I don’t find it the least bit offensive when someone tells me that they’d like to pray for me, so long as their intentions are pure. It is those who discover my sexual identity and tell me they’re going to pray that their God shows me the depths of my sinful ways that I find offensive. Anyone who wants to say a little prayer for me is most welcome to do so; I know I don’t have all the answers and it’s far too self-involved for me to think otherwise.
Before I close my eyes at night I say my own little prayer of sorts, though it is more often called a chant.
Nam Myoho Renge Kyo
It brings about a real sense of peace and centers me when the world around me becomes uneven and chaotic. I don’t generally go around offering to chant for people who are ill or going through rough times, mainly because here in Alabama that sort of talk would result in my being labeled a gay terrorist. Southern Baptists, after all, don’t chant.
The frightening thing to me is that in this day and age of the Internet and the vast amounts of information it contains, people are so willing to take the word of religious zealots and political bigots, the current in-thing is to label anything that isn’t ‘American as apple pie’ as terrorist in nature.
I’m not a terrorist, just a guy who doesn’t share your blind faith.
I didn’t mention it to anyone prior to my recent dermatologist visit, but there was reason to believe the mole I had removed may have been malignant. Biopsy is not a popular word to me; this isn’t the first time I’ve been asked to submit to one and given my track record it wouldn’t surprise me if there are more in my future. Today in the mail I received the relief that only one word can bring - benign.
I don’t have to cringe internally anymore as the external soreness of the still-healing wound serves as a scabbed reminder of what might be. I don’t have to close my office door and stare blankly at the wall until the tears of self-doubt and the fears of "what if" subside.
It isn’t cancer.
For those keeping score at home, in 36 years that makes the tally Michael 3, Cancer 0.
…and now I’m crying for a completely different reason.
It doesn’t take much to get me talking about poverty. As a frugal living advocate for many years, the idea that millions of people around the world are starving to death while countless others are throwing away food because they don’t like it is enough to make me lose my appetite.
While there is no single simple solution to the worldwide spread of poverty that doesn’t mean that we - any of us - should turn a blind eye to the fact that it is happening to people everywhere, even in our own back yards. As mentioned previously on my blog here, I am writing an e-book to raise money in support of a local organization that collects unwanted food from restaurants and supermarkets to distribute to those who need it. While it doesn’t come close to solving a global crisis it does reach out to those who are in my small corner of the world. If each one of us did something that reached out to our own neighbors there would eventually be no need to have a Blog Action Day about Poverty.
“When it comes to friends, lovers and underwear, quality is more important than quantity. Go for the ones that’ll stay close and cover your ass when you need them most.” - Michael Nolan
How much do you really value your relationships? Most of us will immediately answer that they are very important to us, but how many of us take the time to tell the people in our lives how important they are to us?
I wrote that quote a couple of years ago and for some reason it came to mind when I woke up this morning. I can’t say that there is any particular situation for which it applies to me personally at the moment though at the time of its creation it was definitely something that hit close to home.
Today, take a few minutes to tell someone you love how much they mean to you. You never know what they’re going through and your kind words may come at a perfect time for them.
They just don’t come more talented than Carrie Underwood, period. She’s drop dead gorgeous with a voice that stands up against the best in the business. This song breaks my heart and the video just makes me feel all Demi Moore in St Elmo’s Fire. "This Is Just a Dream". Wow, what a lyric.
