Life sucks.

There aren't enough synonyms for fear and stress to describe what I see in the next 8 weeks of my life.

I am studying for the Washington State Bar exam. This involves 3 to 4 hours of prep classes per day followed by an additional 4 to 6 hours of individual studying on top of that. On days where I have no classes, I still have to put in 8 hours of studying. I think the prep course has penciled in a day or two off around July 4th, but I'm pretty sure I'll be using those as make up days, not as free time. I get to do this for the next 8 weeks, at the end of which I have to take an exam which runs for 2 & 1/2 days and tests 18 subjects. Good times.

I keep being told that it's just a marathon. And that's true. It is. But in addition I have to actually memorize the rules for 21 subjects (we don't know which 18 will be tested). I also have to learn to write these rules in essay form which is not as easy as it sounds.

I HATE THIS. I HATE THIS SO MUCH. I have to pass. I can't afford to do this again, either financially or psychologically.

I ping pong back and forth between abject fear and feeling like I can do this. I suppose this is normal. Of course everyone around me starts in with "You'll ace it" and "Don't worry, you can do it" comments which are nice but unhelpful. I KNOW that people more stupid and dull than I have passed this, but that doesn't help either. I know I sound ungrateful, but I DON'T know that I can do this. I can't concentrate. I don't know how to study. I don't know how to memorize. There's no curve to save my ass: it's either pass or fail.

I am already seeing myself stressing and unstressing, stressing and unstressing. I'm really trying to take this one day at a time, but it's so very hard. I'm really trying not to future fuck myself, but it's so very hard. I'm really trying not to be so tough on myself, but it's so very hard. I'm really trying not to be closed off and pinched with the people around me, but it's so so so very hard. They have NO IDEA. Really. That sounds terribly self important, but it's true. They have NO POSSIBLE CLUE what I am facing right now. What every law student faces. It's so easy to say "just take it one step at a time, and you'll do fine." NO! It's really possible I won't. Do you think that the 20-30% of law students who fail the bar just fucked around? They studied hard, too. But they just didn't get the points. That could be me in two months.

On top of this, I still have a life. One that I can't simply let slide. I have to buy and prepare healthy food for my daughter. I need to have clean laundry for her and a relatively tidy house. I have to deal with the garbage, and doing dishes, and really slim finances. I have to get my girlie to school each day, and give her time at night when I pick her up. She still needs to have her teeth brushed, her hair shampooed, bedtime stories, and cuddles. I don't have the luxury of foregoing these obligations for 2 months.

Yes, one way or the other, this too shall pass. But man, it really really sucks right now. I'm tired and I want out.

Wish

If I could have anything right now, it would be a lap to lay my head in and someone to stroke my hair and tell me it will be alright.

Oh, for the love of...

OK, so the fact that Mother Catholicism doesn't WANT gays among her shepherds is no great news. But yesterday the the Vatican issued a directive which explicitly says that spiritual directors and confessors in seminaries "have the duty to dissuade" any candidates "who show deep-seated homosexual tendencies" from joining the priesthood.

Really.

What exactly ARE deep-seated homosexual tendencies, hmm? Liking Judy Garland too much? A lisp? Never having had a girlfriend? Seriously, what constitutes a "deep-seated" homosexual tendency? And how does that differ from a shallow homosexual tendency? Is that someone who's only a little bit gay? Maybe someone who's donated to HRC, or who's attended a pride parade (but of course never marched in one...)? Someone who had a little guy on guy fling but has "gotten past it"? Maybe it's someone who's Bi?

I think the real issue, though is in "the duty to dissuade." Isn't the call to serve God one of those things that isn't for man to interfere with? Y'know, "not my will, but God's will"? And doesn't the Church revere saints who fought against the odds, and even died, to serve God? Yeah, I thought so.

Well, apparently that's not good enough for Mother Catholicism. It seems the Church thinks that homosexual priests "find themselves in a situation that seriously obstructs them from properly relating to men and women." HUH?! How in the WORLD does a celibate GAY man relate less well to men and women than a celibate STRAIGHT man? I mean, most women I know would say that, on a non-sexual basis, gay men relate to them FAR better than straight guys do. Doesn't that tell you something?

Maybe the Church's really problem is a fear that the gay priests won't be able to do the celibacy thing. After all, those gayboys, they're MANIMALS! They just won't be able to keep themselves from hitting the bathhouses and turnpike reststops. But here's my thinkin': the guys who go for gloryholes, are NOT the kind of guys that become priests, y'know? Anymore than straight guys who hit the bars and pick up chicks are the guys that become priests.

Moreover, priests know about the celibacy thing when they sign on the dotted line; it's not like it's some big surprise. Anyone signing up knows that what's expected of them. So where's the problem? If he ain't gettin any ANYWAY, what does it matter that he fantasizes about men instead of women? Is it OK that straight priests jack off to thoughts of women (and yes, they DO jack off)? Even if you DO think fantasies of gay sex are wrong, isn't that really between the priest and God?

Earlier this fall, in anticipation of the publication of the Directive, the Vatican ordered a year long inspection of seminaries and theological schools in the U.S. to look for "evidence of homosexuality" and for faculty members who dissent from church teachings. Apparently it reflects the concern some higher ups had about the church's child-molestation scandal.

Now let's analyze this last paragraph shall we? OK, so we got a year long inspection of seminaries to look for evidence of gays in the ranks. Hm. Whaddya suppose they're looking for? Copies of 'Out"? Anal lube? Or is it just that they're going to talk to people, and suss out the gays that way? Y'know..."Welllll Fr. Fredrick over there seems a bit mincy and whenever Stone Phillips is on he gets a faraway look in his eye..."? Seems REALLY McCarthy-esque. Or, perhaps more a propos - inquisitionesque.

THEN we have them looking for evidence of homosexuality IN THE U.S. Because, dontcha know, gayness only happens in America. We are loose, LOOSE people, we Americans. Except that in terms of acceptance of homosexuality, America is near the bottom of the list of the industrialized nations.

Finally, they're weeding out gays as a response to the pedophilia scandals. OK, is there anyone who doesn't know that taking gays out of the picture won't do a goddamned thing about the child-gropers? Seriously, raise your hands! Because every legitimate fucking study of child molestation says two things: one, it's most likely to be done by a family member, and two, the perpetrators are overwhelmingly straight men . But, hey, research be damned! You gotta have SOMEONE to blame, right? And honestly, this keeps the Church from having to deal with selecting out the pedophiles.

Damn. Just when you think the world is taking a few steps forward, it jumps a half mile back.

And people wonder why I left the Church.

Abortion Soapbox

It is a common view among the anti-choice crowd that women seek abortions because pregnancy and parenthood are "inconvenient."

I recently had a discussion about this with a guy I know, as we were driving down the highway. He said, "I'll be fine with abortion when I am allowed to kill someone simply because they inconvenience me. That guy who just cut me off? He inconvenienced me. I should be allowed to kill him."

I tried to explain that women don't seek abortions on the basis of convenience: many don't have health insurance, are not psychologically or financially prepared to become a parent, are in abusive relationships, are in school. He said, "Inconvenience. Inconvenience. Inconvenience." You get the idea.

Losing your car keys is "inconvenient." Having your hot water heater die is "inconvenient." Having to go to three different stores in order to get the item you want is "inconvenient."

But a situation that requires you to alter your eating, sleeping, and movement habits for nearly a year, that requires you to face the very real risk of physical harm and possible risk of death, that permanently alters your body, and that irreversibly changes your life is a good bit more than "inconvenient." It's pretty damn momentous, and to suggest that it's anything less evidences a total disregard for the experience of childbearing, not to mention a chilling distain for women.

February 14th , 2003

I was willing to try. Up until that night, I was willing to try. I would have gone to counseling, tried to work things out with him, given it my best efforts. And it would have succeeded - at least for a few years. But it all died for me that night.

Two weeks earlier - February 2nd - I had just gotten home from a dinner out with my mama-friends, when he confronted me, saying he knew about C & me. It was dark in the kitchen where we were sitting; there was a small stove light on, and some light from the spots in the back yard, but that was it. But I could see his face clearly. He looked squarely at me, with very little emotion showing.

My first thought upon hearing this was, "Duh... of course you did." My second thought was "You've got to be kidding me. You HAD to know." My third thought was, "Oh shit, you DIDN'T know." What I said was, "Oh." That night lasted forever, and most of the details have been lost in the weary mess that is my brain. I do recall saying that I would go to counseling with him, if that's what he wanted; that I would do whatever it took to fix this. In retrospect, there was no fixing it; leaving was the only solution. But of course I didn't know that then.

So for the next two weeks, we sat. We talked. We cried. We yelled. We tried to figure out what to do. I had been serious about seeing a counselor, but things in our house never moved quickly -- always so much analysis before doing ANYTHING - so no referrals were ever gotten, no appointments ever made.

Still, I was making an effort. I think he was, too. It was tense and painful, but I hadn't lost hope. And then came Valentine's Day.

It fell on a Friday that year. I knew that it was going to be low key. After all, this was the worst pain our relationship had ever seen, and even in good years, Valentine's Day was never a big deal (I tried to believe that, anyway). And we didn't have a lot of money, so even HAD things BEEN good between us, it still wouldn't have amounted to much. It's not like he ever thought to save up to surprise me, or anything. BUt that's another story. So yeah, I wasn't expecting much. I wanted to do SOMETHING, though - if only to mark the fact that it was also the anniversary of when we started dating. That Valentine's Day made it 14 years.

So I planned dinner for us: Coquilles St.Jacques, bread and salad. Wine. Something for dessert. I made sure that everything was done in advance, so that when he came home, I wasn't up to my elbows in breadcrumbs and vermouth. All I had to do was pop the dish in the oven. I also made sure there weren't a bunch of dishes for him to have to do afterward. I got the house cleaned. I had the kiddo in bed. It wasn't a romantic overture, although I did put candles on the table. I t was just that I wanted to show him I was making an effort.

Everything was ready by 6:3o or so, and I got the girl to bed right around 7, the time he usually got home by. Then I sat down to wait. The TV was off. The house was quiet. There was neither chaos, nor coldness. At 7:15, I poured myself a glass of wine. At 7:30, I thought, "OK, Friday night rush hour, busses get tied up. Not unusual. And maybe he stopped to get flowers."

He walked in right before 8. He put his coat and umbrella down, took off his shoes, and said "Sorry, the freeway was a mess." And that was it. Nothing else.

We ate. He made small talk. I think he made some comment about all the men in his building getting hosed by buying flowers from the expensive florist in his building's lobby. I felt smaller and smaller.

At some point he asked me what was wrong. So I told him. I felt like an ass for making the dinner, for putting out candles, for even trying. He told me I shouldn't, that the dinner was fine, and he appreciated it.

"Gee thanks," I said. "I go to the trouble of doing this, and you walk in late, no flowers, not even a card. I see I'm not worth the expensive flowers from the florist in your building, but for God's sake, there's a fucking grocery store across the street. "

He replied that he COULDN'T have gotten me any flowers because - get this - I told him not to use the debit card until the 15th - when his check was direct deposited. I just stared at him. He knew full fucking well that when the 1st and 15th fell on weekends, his checks were deposited on the friday before. And since he saw all those men getting hosed for flowers, he knew it that Friday was the 14th.

I asked him if he'd even thought using his credit card. He hadn't. But I knew that, already. I wasn't worth the thought. I wasn't worth planning ahead for.

After that night, I withdrew from him almost completely. We barely spoke a word to each other until the night, two weeks later, when I told him I didn't think there was any progress to be made.

Would flowers have saved my marriage? For a time. But it was inevitable, our break-up. What I needed, it never occurred to him to give - he was unable or unwilling to see outside himself that way. And I felt so guilty about what I needed that I couldn't just ask.

Fucked up, huh?