A Heathen

To heck with secrecy!

Wed, 20 Oct 2004 04:21:52 GMT

I guess I'm done with this blog -- I don't like keeping two, and if I have something that I need to say, I'm going to say it publicly and non-anonymously. (So that would be nonymously then, right?) Anyone who doesn't like it can -- errr, lump it, I guess.

My very public and nonymous blog is at:

http://argotnaut.com/blog/

So there!

We don't want any!

Sun, 12 Sep 2004 00:21:45 GMT

A couple of hours ago, two young fellers knocked on my door. They were all dressed up in shirts and ties, so I was afraid it was going to be some churchy thing.

They gave me the too-firm handshake and started going through their spiel, without giving me the slightest clue as to what they wanted. Something about practicing speech skills, then a bit about how old the one guy's kid is ("and you can appreciate the fact that I don't want to be a deadbeat dad, right?" What, you want a medal?), blah, blah, blah. I had to interrupt them THREE times, asking them to get to the point, before they finally gave up and told me they were selling magazines.

I can STILL smell cologne on my hands. Yerk.

Texas Horror Story #2: The Accursed Steakhouse

Sun, 12 Sep 2004 00:11:47 GMT

I was forced to go to a smoke-infested, live-country-music-havin' steakhouse every single night that I was in Texas. Under the circumstances, I wanted to do whatever my dad wanted. I resigned myself to eating fried cheese sticks and french fries, and even just moved the unrequested chicken off of my salad without complaining. It was supposed to be optional, but I guess no one ever didn't want it before.

The first night, everyone snickered after our waiter left the table. "Yep, definitely gay," they agreed. Hadn't even occurred to me, although I had thought he was kinda cute. They went on about this for far too long, making jokes about "special sauce" on the salad. Ugh. Please. I left him an outrageously huge tip in case he overheard any of that ridiculousness.

And what is it about painfully straight people that makes them think that every gay person is specifically attracted to them? Just because I like men doesn't mean that I like every single man. I don't get it.

Was so happy to see veggie sushi, edamame, and a dozen other vegetarian entrees at the airport restaurant when I got home. What a relief to be back in my happy heathen home.

The problem with the anonymous blog . . .

Fri, 03 Sep 2004 17:03:50 GMT

Now I don't want to post anything on my non-anonymous blog! "Everything's fine here . . . feeling chipper!" I don't like having the split personality. Am really liking LiveJournal, though, better than Blogger.

The Funeral

Fri, 03 Sep 2004 04:25:19 GMT

I stopped voluntarily going to church (we were Baptist) when I was 12 or 13. Since then, I feel angry and want to cry any time I have to enter a church. I think I've figured out why.

My brother's funeral was the first time since then that I've been in a Baptist church. This time, I was stunned at how obvious it now seems to me that everything the pastor said was a big, fat lie. Did I ever fall for this crap? I became angrier and angrier -- it seems so horribly cruel to promise an afterlife to these people when they're at their most vulnerable. Why would everyone be so upset if there is in fact an afterlife?

One of his co-workers spoke first. He was Middle Eastern, very soft-spoken, and of course, choked up. I could tell that his college-level vocabulary was floating right past everyone there. I thanked him later for speaking, because I could see how difficult it was for him. Later, one of the in-laws remarked, "Ah couldn't understand nothin' he said. I don't thaink he could hardly speak English." There was absolutely nothing wrong with his English, thank you very much. Howsabout yours? I've heard of this syndrome before -- people decide that they can't understand someone with an unfamiliar accent, so they can't. But if they give it a bit of time, they'll adjust and understand just fine. So it's their problem.

I've developed this sort of conditional Tourette's that comes out only when I hear about stupid religious stuff. For example, A is now accustomed to hearing me shout things like "Fucking Pope!!!" (upon reading the Vatican's assertion that feminism is causing our society to fall apart).

So here's what I wanted to scream at the funeral but couldn't, because it's rude to upset people there:

"Shut yer fried-chicken hole, you ignorant, pompous, self-righteous little porcine-faced hick! You should be ashamed of yourself, lying to all of these people like that! How dare you!"

Gather 'round, and let Auntie Heathen tell it to you like it is, kiddies: You got but one chance -- no do-overs, so keep your hands on the goddamned wheel!

Texas Horror Story #1: Like Chocolate for Democrats

Fri, 03 Sep 2004 03:42:49 GMT

The B family and in-laws were gathered in T's living room the day before the funeral. One child (maybe 2?) pointed to the side of the room where the TV was, saying "Daddy?" "No, honey," they corrected, noting the black man on the screen, "That's a chocolate man. That's a democrat." Talk then turned to interracial babies. "We have one o' them in my church -- a black man married a white woman and they have a baby," someone offered charitably.

Inauguration

Thu, 02 Sep 2004 03:59:49 GMT

I've been meaning to start an anonymous blog for some time now, and my trip to Dallas for my brother's funeral finally pushed me over the edge. I have an awful lot that I need to say.

I have a "normal" blog elsewhere, but I consider that to be more of a year-round Christmas letter -- just something to let family and friends know what's going on. So, I don't feel that I can always say exactly what I think there. Especially frustrating is when one particular person who is only trying to be helpful always tries to give me advice. I'm not asking for advice; I just want to vent! And besides, it's not particularly helpful advice.

I'm sure a forensic linguist or someone with good Googling skills could probably figure out rather quickly who I actually am, but I'm not really concerned. If someone is that desperate to find out, fine. However, if you do know me, please don't post any comments that would reveal who I am. I'm probably going to turn on comment control so that I can check things before they're posted -- just in case you forget. :)

Texas is so anti-me . . . I'm probably going to have to post the whole epic in small bites. I don't think I can stand to recall all of it at once. So stay tuned for the horror stories!