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antiyourwokehomophobia2 · 3 years

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You said we can ask you questions so here goes( hope they arent invasive)

-at what age did u realise u were lesbian?was it easy/hard to accept?

-how was your coming out like? How did your family and friends react?

-were you ever/are you religious?do u believe one can balance between being homosexual and religious?

- were you always masc or is it something that came with accepting your sexuality?

-do you call yourself a stud?

- how hard/easy has it been being an out and proud black lesbian?

- thoughts on the stigma against stud4stud/butch4butch lesbians

-were you ever a TRA/libfem? If yes, what made you peak?

-ive had ppl talk about how masc lesbians being touch-me-nots is problematic/toxic and how its more about upholding a "status" than it is about preference. What do you make of that?

Not invasive at all! I'm happy to answer and thank you for asking :).

- I realized I was a lesbian at age 12 when I developed a HUGE crush on my gorgeous English teacher. I also got a small crush on a girl in one of my classes. I didn't grow up around much homophobia so it wasn't hard for me to accept that I was gay but what was hard was the absolute intensity of my feelings towards my teacher. I used to pray to god to have my feelings for her taken away because they were just so intense and I didn't know how to handle them (she was my teacher so I clearly wasn't going to ask her out. There was literally no outlet for what I was feeling so I kept it bottled.). My parents never brought up gay people in any positive or negative way and the kids I grew up around didn't really either. So me being gay wasn't something I beat myself up over. Once I accepted that I wasn't an overly invested straight ally, the road to acceptance was a peace of cake tbh.

-My coming out was... Well. I first started coming out to my friends when I was 13 and they were accepting of it. It honestly wasn't that interesting to tell you the truth 😅. All the peers that I gave a shit about never gave me shit for being gay. I never lost a friend for being gay. Coming out to my parents took me until I was 16 and the reason for that is because I genuinely didn't know how they'd react. Like I said, they never said anything about gay people point blank period. However, I was kind of forced to come out one particular night because my heart had been fucking shattered by a girl I was strongly crushing on at the time. I was pacing up and down my house, my best friend wasn't answering me, I could hear my dad's TV playing, it was late, I was tired, I couldn't sleep, I had school tomorrow, I was freaking out, I was devastated... I wanted to be comforted so I went to my father, threw my head into his arm and started telling him how my heart felt broken. He asked me if I had a boyfriend and when I said "nope" there was some silence and he was like "it's okay, I've known for a long time". I never actually said the words "gay" or "lesbian" during my coming out but I guess I didn't need to. The next morning, my father asked if it was okay if he could go tell my mom and I said yes. Long story short, my mom was even less surprised than my dad and she's the more progressive of the two so it wasn't really an issue (though she did tell me to keep an open mind in terms of liking men 😅 she seems to think I'm bisexual which is whatever because she never bothers me about it).

-Hmm. I don't like to completely cut out religion from my life. My father was extremely religious and now that he's gone, I feel it's disrespectful for me to say God doesn't exist. Like, "dad, you spent practically your whole life believing wholeheartedly in God but guess what! It was a waste and the thing you dedicated your life is something I think is a fairytale!" that doesn't sit right with me at all. I've been baptized and I used to go to church when I was younger. I think that there's no reason to shake my head at the possibility of a God. In terms of being gay and believing in God, I once watched a video by a devout Christian gay man who went through all the homophobic stuff Christians love to quote from the bible and gave the actual meaning behind them. I, personally, do not think that God is homophobic. I think that God's love is not something we have the capacity to understand. So, I, personally, think Christian gay people are perfectly fine and are already balanced. Here's to hoping that they stay away from homophobic churches!

-No, I wasn't always masc. As a child I was a huge girly girl. Like, legit, I wasn't a tomboy in the slightest lmao. I'm not sure when I started being masc. But what I do know is that I've grown far more masc over the years. I used to not want to dress too manly (no tuxedo's and no clothes from the men's section and no boxers) but nowadays I love all of those things and that's genuinely what I want in my wardrobe so I have no problem going into the men's section for my clothes.

-No, I don't call myself a stud. Love those guys though. The label I feel that's most accurate for me is masc.

-Um, I'm not sure how to answer this since I don't have experience being any other kind of lesbian. I guess it's just kind of tiring. I'm black, female, and homosexual. That's a LOT of different topics to give my attention to. The hardest part of being a black lesbian is knowing who to give my camaraderie to. Do I give it to black women? Black women AND black men? Lesbians? Only black lesbians? The lgb community as a whole? It's just a lot to think about. I will say, though, I think that it's a lot harder to be a masc black lesbian than a white one. Black women are already perceived as manly just based off of our skin color. So for me to willingly present masc can often be... A non-pretty picture in the eyes of society and I'm hyper-aware of that which is why I often have trouble going all out with the wardrobe I truly desire. That's my biggest challenge navigating the world as the black lesbian that I am. On a more positive note though, it's great being a black lesbian because I can have an opinion on everything and nobody can tell me I'm being racist/homophobic/sexist or stepping outside of my lane 😂. I'm on a three-lane road motherfucker and I'm not afraid to use all of them.

-my thoughts are that you should leave people alone. I will say though, I once read something that was like "if you call yourself a femme but the idea of being with a butch disgusts you, you're not a femme, you're just a feminine lesbian" and that rang true to me so it feels hypothetical (and nonsensical) if the reverse wasn't true as well. If a butch/stud shits on femmes and assumes they can't be as feminine as they are and ACTUALLY gay then I do have a problem. Butches and femmes have a history that's damn near inseparable from each other so for a butch to shit on femmes... I'd argue that they're probably not butch but instead just masculine lesbians. However, I don't care if two butches or studs want to date lmao. All the power to them, I hope they're happy.

-I definitely used to support trans rights more than I do now. I would correct people who misgendered others. I thought trans women were women. I was in support of bathroom laws. I never made posts about it, but I very much did believe it. Magdalen berns made me peak. I started realizing that gender makes no sense. I did some research and came to the conclusions I hold today. Even when I want to go back to my ignorance, I can't because I've seen too much by now.

-I honestly don't know. I think that some masc lesbians don't want to be put in that "feminine" position of being touched by their partner. It could stem from upholding a status but at the end of the day, sexual boundaries are sexual boundaries. What are you gonna do? Force your touch on to them? Yikes. Leave them be. If you're upset about your partner not wanting to be touched by you then get a new one. Clearly you're not sexually happy so leave. I don't think it's necessarily toxic unless they think there's something inherently demeaning in being touched by their partner or they do want to be touched but won't allow themselves due to trauma or feeling like there's a certain persona they must uplift. Other than that though, I don't see the issue.

Thanks for the questions, buddy ❤️

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defendglobe · 5 years

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ive likened my dad’s family to vulcans many times. it sounds like an exaggeration but it really REALLY isn’t.

there’s this very specific subculture his side of the family is entrenched in. very religious dutch immigrants who are part of this specific church denomination and very into christian education.

and its like. in that culture you Do Not Show Emotion. Ever. it’s seen as like. you’re too weak in your faith and you’re just being selfish and not trusting god or whatever. so they look down on you. don’t talk about your feelings no matter what. dont be too happy and ESPECIALLY dont be sad or angry at all. no one wants to hear about your problems. just shut up and keep your head down and keep working until you die, basically.

these are the kinds of people who were giving me dirty looks for crying at a funeral just this month. its kinda sick to feel superiority because you didn’t show emotion at a funeral and someone else did. but thats what this kinda shit is like.

i grew up always being afraid my dad hated me because he would never say i love you or act proud of me or goof around or anything like that. he never even seemed like he liked us at all and would always get REALLY mad at us for being upset and that kinda shit. now i know that its just that he was raised not to show emotion or be super affectionate. but it still sucks.

its why spock has always been such a comforting character for me. recognizing that HEY IT’S NOT A FUCKING CRIME TO HAVE FEELINGS AND TO BE SAD AND SHIT SOMETIMES. spock goes through that shit too.

#blah blah blah

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southboundhqarchive · 5 years

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MEET ADELINE,

FULL NAME › Adeline Ziyi Mercier AGE › twenty nine GENDER › Cis woman (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Guangzhou, China RESIDENCE › Desert Willow Apartment Complex (Downtown) OCCUPATION › Owner of the Olive Branch Bar NOW PLAYING › The Show by Lenka

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: implied racism, internalized racism, bullying, death

i. the first thing anyone will tell you about ethan and therese mercier is that they are good christians. church every sunday, bible study, scriptures framed on their wall christians. they can’t conceive a child of their own, but their sorrow gives way to purpose: this is all part of god’s plan. they are meant to give an unfortunate child a better life. a few trips to china and some paperwork filed later, the merciers bring a beautiful baby girl out of the orphanage and christen her adeline. it’s the american dream!

on their search for the perfect place to raise a child, they settle on the picturesque town of boot hill, arizona. it’s safe, secluded, and the desert has some charm, and when adeline turns two, they move into a one-story house with a garden. adeline is given dresses and books and toys; she is showered in love; she wants for nothing, and should want for nothing. they raise her as an all-american girl without much thought to her chinese heritage—well, there’s a chinese restaurant just a short drive away—but they do not know that will cause her to lose pieces of herself.

it is in elementary school when someone first asks her why don’t you look like your mom? it’s easy to stick out in town when you’re one of the only asian kids, and her crueler classmates mock the shape of her eyes and call her names. they never let her forget she’s different, that she doesn’t belong, and when she comes home crying, her mother soothes her and tells her to ignore them. be stronger than them. be the bigger person. it’s easy to say that when you’re used to being the majority, but every time adeline looks in the mirror, she is reminded she is not. if she wishes hard enough, will her eyes turn blue and her hair turn blonde?

but there are no fairy godmothers in boot hill. there is only a lonely girl, the fractures of her identity, and the desire for acceptance.

ii. if she will fit in with no one, then she will fit in with everyone. in high school, she flits between groups with ease, earning trust with a guileless smile and a warm demeanor. she’s a cheerleader, a pianist, student council vice president, and everyone loves her—or if they don’t, they pretend to. elementary school taunts become snide remarks in the bathroom. she acts like she’s better than us, who does she think she is? teenagers ( and adults! ) are particularly venomous when fed with the prejudices of their small world. you’re so exotic. how much do you cost? go back home. you don’t belong here. but adeline holds her head high because that is she what she’s been taught, plays the role everyone from her parents to her friends to her teachers want her to. she is so honest, so compassionate, you can’t help but tell her everything. soon, she is carrying not only the secrets of heart but the secrets of her peers too, and it is more than she ever wanted to hold. ( this is what she has learned about people: they want to be listened to. they want to be heard. but who is listening to her? )

the dissonance of the two halves of her identity, american and chinese, never quite goes away, but she shoves it down in favor of hanging out with friends at cheri’s dairy and going on dates at the drive-in. still, try as she might, she can’t ignore her curiosity. the older she gets, the more questions she has, and the desire to reconnect with the country she only knows as her birthplace grows with each year. they’ve already been to the jade flower, which adeline chooses every year for her birthday, though surely there’s more to being chinese than chow mein and general tso’s chicken. but there are no chinese schools in boot hill, no chinese new year celebrations like in san francisco, and her parents are terribly vague about answering questions about where she came from. they think she shouldn’t wonder too much, that she should be happy with what she has in the united states, with them. you’re much better off here, adeline.

iii. boot hill girls don’t go to college and they certainly don’t go to ivy leagues, but adeline mercier has always something of an anomaly. being valedictorian of her high school class, on the student council, and an avid volunteer with a sympathetic story of searching for herself in a sea of faces that don’t look like her gets her a spot at columbia. her parents couldn’t be prouder; this is what they brought her to this country for.

college is the first time in her life she’s seen so many other asians, and it feels like a piece has finally clicked into place but just not quite. the edge slips with the truth: she can’t relate. she doesn’t have them same upbringing as those who grew up in asian families and communities, doesn’t share the same inside jokes or the same struggles. this disconnect leads her to seek out other adoptees in new york, and with them, she finally can name the isolation deep in her bones, that feeling of being in two worlds yet feeling at home in neither. she can finally admit that while her parents tried, they didn’t try hard enough. during her time at columbia, she tries to look for her biological mother the merciers gave her no clues for, but her search turns up next to nothing. she tries not to be too disappointed; it’s just another gaping hole in her heart she can’t fill, just another series of unanswered questions. what’s new?

unused to the academic rigor of her classes, she nearly fails her first year. though she’s always been an intelligent girl—all a’s, model student, overachiever—, high school in boot hill was nothing compared to columbia. with the help of tutors and too many late nights, she manages to bring her grades back up, but it’s a constant uphill battle. frankly, boot hill didn’t prepare her for anything in new york—not the traffic, the subway, not the people. it’s a cliche, a small town girl moving to a big city and feeling completely lost, but god, it’s true. in boot hill, she was a shining star. at columbia, she’s simply another glimmer in a galaxy.

it’s comforting to be lost in the crowd, though, to no longer stick out because she’s different. here, in new york, she can be anyone. in new york, she blends right in. new york is terrifying but exhilarating, and she never wants to leave.

iv. life has a way of forcing your hand to play the cards you don’t want to be dealt. she’d been planning to stay in new york after graduation, but a whirlwind of events sends her back to boot hill, beginning with a positive pregnancy test and ends with death knocking at her door. when her boyfriend of two years learns she’s pregnant, he says everything will be okay, we’ll make it work, we can do anything as long as we’re together.

it’s a touching sentiment, but wishes don’t come true no matter how many stars you wish on and lovers can’t come home when they’re left bleeding in an alley. she finds out later that there was nothing that could be done and she’s left with too many questions and too little answers. rather than stay alone in city that’s growing far too cold for a young woman who grew up under the arizona sun, she returns to that small town off route 66. there, she will be safe. there, she will not worry. there, the jaws of the world will not snap her or her baby in two.

( and for all her parents’ faults, they will always be there to welcome her home. )

v. there are rumors, as there always are, whispers flying around about who the father is, what she’s running from. pretty, polished, tarnished. her mother’s friends sigh about her wasted potential ( what a poor girl! ) like being a single mother has cracked her porcelain facade. not so perfect anymore, quip snide high school acquaintances, the ones who thought she acted as if she was too good for them. how satisfying is it to see not even adeline mercier can escape boot hill? she should’ve known those who try to leave never really can.

but a month passes, and another month, and the rumor mill moves on. with the influx of newcomers coming into boot hill, there’s enough to gossip enough to keep the town sustained that it becomes like she never left ( which is to say, she still feels slightly out of place, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit ). she easily falls into a routine: she gets a job as a waitress at the schoolhouse cafe, her parents take care of raphael while she’s at work, and she saves up all her money so she can, at least, make something out of herself here.

with the knowledge gained from university and an investment from her parents, she opens the olive branch bar as a homage to her favorite haunts in nyc the summer she turns 26. it pales in comparison to the low-lit lounges of the city she could have called home, but boot hill locals don’t know that. all they see is something new, a change of pace from the bucking horse or coyote’s howl. she’s not looking to replace them—everyone knows you can’t—but simply filling a niche that hasn’t been realized until now. business is slow at first, then suddenly, it skyrockets, both newcomers and locals looking for a taste of sophistication pulled in by the wine list, handcrafted cocktails, and jazzy ambiance.

yet it is a difficult thing to be a bird whose wings have soared only to have them clipped again. when once she might have thought she would’ve worked in skyscrapers and changed even a fraction of the world, her ambitions have been cut in half by circumstance. she’s as successful as one can be in this town with a thriving bar and a wonderful, growing boy, but oh, how she yearns for the world she had a glimpse of.

it’s a shame she’ll never see it again.

❝ if she spoke, she would tell him the truth: she was not okay at all, but horribly empty, now that she knew what it was like to be filled. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Gemma Chan AUTHOR › Izzie

#gemma chan #rp #rpg #oc rp #town rp #{ all. }#{ local. }#{ over twenty. }#{ izzie. }#{ f. }#racism implied tw #internalized racism tw #death tw #bullying tw

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seanpatricklittlewriter · 3 years

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The Movie Post

Greetings and salutations, true believers. I haven’t posted anything in a while other than shameless book promotion stuff for #FourthAndWrong, and for that I apologize. I always say I’d let you know if anything good happened immediately, but nothing good has happened. The new book is out. A few people who have read it told me they liked it. It’s not selling well. Lack of sales means a lack of reviews, which only helps it not sell faster. It’s all a vicious cycle. At a certain point, you have to remember that you’re only writing books because some tiny voice in your head won’t let you stop, and you just throw your hands up and let everything else fall as it may. For the first time, I’ve actually bothered to try real advertising. I’m giving advertising on the Kindle lock screens a go. I’ll let you know if actually works.

In the meantime, I’ve been listening to a lot of podcasts while puttering around the house, going for walks, and ignoring the gym. (I gotta stop ignoring the gym…) If you haven’t watched “Ted Lasso” on AppleTV yet, I HIGHLY recommend it. It’s one of the best shows I’ve watched in a long time. Great writing. Great characters. Great story. Very uplifting and wonderful. One of the show’s writers, creators, and stars, the wonderful Brett Goldstein (who plays the gruff Roy Kent on the show), has a podcast called “Films to Buried With.”

I started listening to his podcast because I enjoy him on the show so much, and I’ve found out that I enjoy his podcast as much as the show. He’s a genuinely sweet man, and he gets comedian and actor friends to guest on his podcast. The show’s conceit is that Brett invites guests on, tells them they have died, and then gets them to relive their life through the films that meant something to them. It’s a fun little chat show, and a solid way to waste an hour while you’re getting through doing the dishes or mowing the lawn.

It’s precisely the sort of podcast I would love to be on. I’ve always said you can judge your level of success by what people invite you to do. I always said I’d know if I “made it” if I could ever get invited to be on one of the podcasts I enjoy, rather than trying to wrangle my way into someone else’s podcast or blog. So far— this has not happened. That should tell you what level of success I’m stuck at. I don’t get invited to the movies by my imaginary friends. But Brett encourages people to share their ideas and opinions on social media, anyhow. It’s a fun way to play along at home, tell other people about the podcast, and start conversations around your favorite movies. Stories bind us together. They give us common ground and build bridges toward strengthening relationships. If you meet someone new, you can tell if you’ll get along with them by what films they enjoy. So in that spirit, I’d like to answer the questions Brett asks his guests by discussing a few of my favorite films. If you’d like to play along in the comments, please do. I always love reading about what other people think about movies, books, or music. I won’t bother going through the death/afterlife conceit he uses, but I recommend listening to a few of his podcasts if you enjoy this sort of thing. It’s a fun little premise he uses to generate the episodes.

--What’s the first film you remember seeing?

I remember bits and pieces of several films from my childhood. I remember the Muppet Movie in the theater. I remember seeing The Black Hole. I remember a lot of little chunks of a lot of Disney animated films. But the movie that sticks out in my head is “Raiders of the Lost Ark.” It was 1981. I was six. I remember going to see it on a Sunday matinee with my family. I remember it was packed. People were literally sitting on the floor in the aisles. We got three seats someplace, but I remember my dad having to sit in the row in front of us. I don’t remember a ton about the movie the first time I saw it other than being scared of the pit of snakes and the melting Nazi faces. However, I remember the iconic moment when Harrison Ford pulled the gun on the swordsman and shot him. I remember the audience reaction and thinking, “That’s a hero.” I’ve long been a Harrison Ford fan. Between Han Solo and Indiana Jones, he played two of the most iconic heroes of my childhood. When I wrote the TeslaCon novels, I made no secret that my protagonist, Nicodemus Clarke, was just a shallow rip-off of Indiana Jones. It’s funny, but to this day, in my head, if you ask me what a hero looks like, it’s always going to be Harrison Ford.

--What’s the scariest film you’ve ever seen?

The scariest film I’ve ever seen is Kevin Smith’s “Red State.” It’s a movie about a religious cult that’s very reminiscent of the Westboro Baptist Church, David Koresh/Waco compound, or any of the other extremely far-right Christian separatist movements. It’s scary because there are many, many of these gun-hoarding compounds, and the movie, while extreme, is not too far off from possibility. Michael Parks plays the leader of the family at the heart of the film, and his performance was award worthy. He was truly terrifying. As an aside, prior to Red State, I always told people the movie that scared me the most was the original “The Amityville Horror.” Basically, I saw the scene where the poltergeist made the drop-sash window fall on the kid’s fingers and nearly sever them, and that was it. I had the same drop-sash windows in my bedroom, and I was scared of them from then on. I’d like to say that I outgrew my fear of drop-sash windows, but I’m 46 and they still skeeze me out when I see them. A movie I saw 40 years ago warped me forever.

--What’s the movie that made you cry the most?

I used to not be someone who cried at movies. However, years of thyroid issues and depression have messed with my response to emotional moments, so I do get teary nowadays at movies. Emotionally speaking, it’s not sad movies that get to me. It’s movies where someone overcomes something difficult. Especially sports movies. The ones that get me the most teary-eyed now are movies like the first “Rocky,” “Hoosiers,” “Miracle,” and “Rudy.” I also get teary-eyed at points of bravery to the point of stupidity. The best example of that is the climax and denouement of “How to Train Your Dragon.” Strangely enough, when a movie does something that is supposed to be a tear-jerker moment to the point that it panders to the audience, I don’t cry— I actually get angry. Anything Nicolas Sparks has ever had his name attached to, for instance. It’s maudlin, and it doesn’t deserve our respect.

--What the film that made you laugh the most?

This is not going to be a popular answer. If I was a little more erudite, I’d say something like “Airplane” or “Blazing Saddles” or “Monty Python and the Holy Grail.” However, I didn’t see any of those in the theater originally. I was home, watching them on video. While they were funny and some of my favorite movies, I did not really do a ton of laughing while I saw them. I went to see “BASEketball” with my sister, and the theater was packed. Something about seeing a movie in a crowded theater heightens the emotional impact of jokes, and for whatever reason, that movie put me on the floor a couple of times. It’s a silly movie full of cheap laughs, but I remember hurting as I was leaving the theater. My sides and cheeks were sore. Second on that list was the movie “Bridesmaids.” I don’t think I’ve laughed harder at any movie than the scene where they all get diarrhea in the bridal shop. Especially Melissa McCarthy: “LOOK AWAY!”

--What is the sexist film you’ve seen?

For me, I will never forget seeing “Bachelor Party” on HBO at a friend’s house. Monique Gabrielle’s scene is probably the first time I saw full-frontal female nudity in a film. It burned itself into my brain. I probably have a thing for redheads to this day because of that scene. The rest of the movie is very wild and funny. It was one of the launching blocks for Tom Hanks’s ridiculously amazing career. But that one moment stands out as one of the sexiest things I’ve ever seen.

--What film did you used to love, but now it’s not that great?

Pretty much anything with “Rocky” in the title and a number following it. I still enjoy them, but Rocky III and IV, especially— not that good. I used to love them. I used to watch them whenever they hit TV, but now I only need to watch the first “Rocky,” and maybe the final fight in “Rocky II.” Anything else, I can leave out. They just feel a little overclocked at this point in my life.

--What’s a film that people and critics panned, but you enjoyed?

“Goon.” It’s a hockey film written by Jay Baruchel and starring Seann William Scott. It didn’t get wide release—almost straight-to-video. It didn’t get great reviews. I think Metacritic has it around 60%. But something about that movie hit me, and I love it. I suggest it to people all the time. It’s got great performances. It’s a solid flick. It’s not going to overwhelm you. It’s now one of my comfort films. When I’m bored and need something on in the background, I will often choose “Goon” or its sequel, “Goon: Last of the Enforcers.” The sequel was not as good as the original, but it’s still worth a watch. Kurt Russell’s son Wyatt is the villain in the sequel. He’s extremely good.

--What’s a film that people love, but you hate?

Hands down: “Avatar” or “Titanic.” Something about a lot of James Cameron films just don’t work with me. I think it’s because they’re too grandiose. They try too hard. Also, the scripts are just there to get him to the big, visual set-pieces. They’re thin on both character and plot. I can’t stand either of them.

--What’s a film that means a lot to you, but it’s not because of the quality of the movie (i.e. you saw it with someone and it’s special, or it has importance to people around you, etc…)?

Easily, “The Man From Snowy River.” This is a family favorite. I grew up watching this flick, and I made my daughter watch it when she was younger. I will never get tired of it. I probably watch it maybe three or four times a year. There’s just something about the cinematography of the climax when Jim goes down the mountainside on Denny’s back. It’s always breath-taking. Also, if you watch “The Man From Snowy River,” you see what my dad always wanted his life to be. Most boys’ fathers want their sons to be doctor or lawyers. My dad wanted me to be a cowboy.

--What film do you relate to the most?

“Clerks.” I saw “Clerks” when I was a senior in high school. Rented it from a local video store. I saw two dudes who were outliers in their social group working crappy jobs and dealing with the mundane nothingness of life. It hit me right in the gut. I resolved to do something better than that. So far, I’ve failed to do so, but I keep trying.

--Empirically speaking, what is the best film? (Not necessarily favorite film— but what film do you think is the best film ever made?)

I have to say it was “Lawrence of Arabia.” The casting was amazing. The cinematography was incredible, unrivaled, really. The story was excellent. And the ordeal of the entire filming process was without peer. What they went through to make that movie, hands down, makes it the best film ever made. The scope of the film alone is mind-boggling. The Lord of the Rings trilogy is a close second, but that’s technically three films, so I went with Lawrence of Arabia.

--What film have you seen the most?

I have watched “The Muppet Movie” a ton. I still love the movie “Roxanne.” I have also seen “Seven Brides for Seven Brothers” and “The Quiet Man” more than any single person probably should. If I had to think about it and pick one film I’ve seen more than other…it’s probably “Meatballs.” Growing up, my sister and I watched that flick a thousand times. I can probably recite it from memory. It’s also one of the films that cemented an undying loyalty to Bill Murray.

--And finally: You die and go to heaven. And in heaven, they ask you to pick one film that summarizes your life, one film that makes people understand you, or a film you want people to watch to help them know you better. What is that film?

Nothing has had more influence on my life than the movie “Ghostbusters.” It defined me in several ways: my love for comedy, my love for the paranormal, and my love for snark and snappy comebacks. I loved Ghostbusters so much that I watched it on a weekly basis. I ran the audio cables from our VCR to a tape deck and recorded an audio copy of the film to play on my Walkman while I road the bus to school every day. I still have the film memorized word-for-word. I will often let my eyes go a little weird and turn to my daughter and say, “Then, during the Third Reconciliation of the Last of the Meketrex Supplicants, they chose a new form for him, that of a giant Sloar! Many Shubs and Zuuls knew what it was to be roasted in the depths of a Sloar that day, I can tell you!” To know me is to understand Ghostbusters on a molecular level. I owe that movie a lot.

Anyhow, this was a fun way to waste my night. I encourage you to play along. Answer some or all of the questions Brett asks his guests. I highly recommend listening to a few episodes of “Films to Be Buried With” on your favorite podcatcher app. And if anyone out there knows Brett Goldstein, please let him know I’m available to guest on his podcast. Until next time—Thanks for reading.

--Sean

#FourthAndWrong #filmstobeburiedwith #brett goldstein #movies #films

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frmartinshomiliesandreflections · 3 years

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2nd February >> Fr. Martin’s Gospel Reflections / Homilies on Luke 2:22-40 for the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord: ‘My eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared for all the nations’.

Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Gospel (Except USA)

Luke 2:22-40

My eyes have seen your salvation

When the day came for them to be purified as laid down by the Law of Moses, the parents of Jesus took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, – observing what stands written in the Law of the Lord: Every first-born male must be consecrated to the Lord – and also to offer in sacrifice, in accordance with what is said in the Law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons. Now in Jerusalem there was a man named Simeon. He was an upright and devout man; he looked forward to Israel’s comforting and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death until he had set eyes on the Christ of the Lord. Prompted by the Spirit he came to the Temple and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the Law required, he took him into his arms and blessed God; and he said:

‘Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace, just as you promised; because my eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared for all the nations to see, a light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel.’

As the child’s father and mother stood there wondering at the things that were being said about him, Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘You see this child: he is destined for the fall and for the rising of many in Israel, destined to be a sign that is rejected – and a sword will pierce your own soul too – so that the secret thoughts of many may be laid bare.’ There was a prophetess also, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was well on in years. Her days of girlhood over, she had been married for seven years before becoming a widow. She was now eighty-four years old and never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. She came by just at that moment and began to praise God; and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him.

Gospel (USA)

Luke 2:22–40

My eyes have seen your salvation.

When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons, in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord. Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord. He came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him, He took him into his arms and blessed God, saying:

“Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all the peoples: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.”

The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted —and you yourself a sword will pierce— so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. And coming forward at that very time, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem. When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.

Reflections (8)

(i) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Sometimes older people have an insight into life and into other people that is the fruit of long experience. Life has taught them what is important and what is not so important. In today’s gospel reading, we find two older people who express a great insight into the young child of a young married couple. Simeon declares the child to be God’s salvation, a light to enlighten the pagans and to bring glory to Israel. Anna announces that this child will fulfil the hopes of all who have looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. Simeon made his declaration to the child’s parents, and Anna made hers to a larger group. They both speak to all of us today about the true identity of Jesus. As Mary and Joseph present Jesus to God in the Temple, in a sense, Simeon and Anna present Jesus to us by what they say about him. Perhaps, we might remember to day and give thanks for all those who presented Jesus to us, especially the older members of our family and our community. We bless and light candles on this day in response to Simeon’s recognition of Jesus as the light to enlighten all people. God’s light has shone and continues to shine upon us through Jesus, the light of God’s love, God’s truth and God’s life. It is a light that has the power to overcome the darkness that can easily hang over us, especially the darkness of fear and of death. The second reading declares that Jesus shared in our flesh and blood so that by his death he might set free all those who had been held on slavery by the fear of death. On this feast, we open our lives and hearts afresh to what Saint John Henry Newman calls God’s ‘kindly light’ which has shone so abundantly upon us through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.

And/Or

(ii) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Today we celebrate Jesus’ presentation in the Temple in Jerusalem by his parents, in accordance with the Jewish Law. In the opening chapters of his gospel, Luke portrays Jesus’ parents as faithfully observing the Jewish Law. In this way he wants to stress that the movement that became known as Christianity has its roots deeply in the Jewish faith. In the Jewish Scriptures, especially in the prophet Isaiah, Israel’s role was to be a light to the Gentiles, to reveal the light of God to the world. According to our gospel reading, the elderly Simeon, a devout Jew, recognizes Mary and Joseph’s child as the one who is to embody this calling of Israel. He is to be a light to enlighten the pagans, and in being faithful to this role he will bring glory to Israel. Simeon had spent his life looking forward to ‘Israel’s comforting’. When Mary and Joseph entered the Temple with their new born first child on that day, Simeon’s longings and hopes were brought to fulfilment. It has been said that Simeon has become the patron saint of those who, having found meaning at last in their lives, are able to let go and surrender to the Lord. His prayer of surrender has become part of the Night Prayer of the Church. We pray that prayer as people who have been graced by God’s light shining through Jesus. Like Simeon, we have come to recognize Jesus as the light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of Israel. We have candles blessed on this day; we light them and carry them as a sign of our joy of discovering Jesus as the light of the world. Indeed, every time we light a candle in church or at home, we are acknowledging Jesus as the light of the world and we are also recognizing our own need for his gracious light as we struggle with the various forms of darkness in our lives.

And/Or

(iii) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

This morning’s gospel reading features a man and a woman, Simeon and Anna, who had given themselves over to the service of the Lord for many years. Simeon is described as upright and devout, on whom the Holy Spirit rested. It is said of Anna that she never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. As well as being the Feast of the Presentation, today is also the World Day for Consecrated Life. Simeon and Anna remind us of those men and women who have consecrated themselves to serve the Lord in the religious life. Today we thank God for them all and we ask God’s blessing upon them. Simeon and Anna’s close relationship with the Lord gave them a special gift of insight. When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus into the Temple, Simeon recognized their child as a ‘light to enlighten the pagans’ and as ‘the glory of your people Israel’. Anna recognized their child as the one who fulfilled the hopes of those who were looking forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. They had a rich insight into who this child really was and they shared this insight with others; they continue to share their insight with us today. As our relationship with the Lord deepens, through prayer and through our following his way, we too will grow in our insight into the Lord’s identity and into the meaning of his whole ministry from his birth to resurrection. We too will be called upon to witness to that growing insight as Simeon and Anna did. This morning, we celebrate Simeon’s insight into Jesus as the light to enlighten all peoples. We recognize our own need for this light and we invite the Lord to shine his light into whatever darkness may be in our own hearts and lives.

And/Or

(iv) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

The gospel reading for today’s feast describes a meeting between a young couple and their infant child and two people who were well on in years, Simeon and Anna. Simeon’s response when he met the infant Jesus was to pray; he blessed God. His prayer has become part of the official prayer of the church and is prayed every night by those who pray night prayer. Anna’s response on meeting the child Jesus was to speak about Jesus to others, especially to those who were waiting for God to visit them in a special way. Simeon’s meeting with Jesus and his parents led him to look upwards towards God in prayer; Anna’s meeting with Jesus and his parents led her to look outwards towards others in witness. Simeon and Anna have each something to say to us about how to receive the Lord. We too are called to respond to the Lord’s coming to us as light of the world, in the same two-fold way, in prayer and in witness. We bless God, we thank God, in prayer for the gift of his Son, the light to enlighten all people, and we also allow that light to shine through us before others, by witnessing to the Lord in the way that we live, by what we say and do. The Lord who entered the temple in Jerusalem as the light of the world has entered and is entering all our lives; this morning we look to Simeon and Anna to show us how best to respond to his gracious coming.

And/Or

(v) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

At the centre of today’s gospel reading are two older people, Simeon and Anna. They were both blessed with the gift of recognition or insight. They both recognized the true identity of the child who was carried into the temple by his young parents. Simeon recognized Jesus as the light to enlighten the pagans and as the glory of Israel. Anna recognized him as the Deliverer for whom people had been waiting. They both went on to proclaim to others what they had come to recognize for themselves. Their gift of recognition was the fruit of their prayer. They were people of prayer; Simeon’s prayer has become part of the Night Prayer of the church; Anna is described as serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. Their prayerfulness made them sensitive to the Lord’s presence and helped them to recognize the Lord even in the surprising form of the new born child of a young couple. Simon and Anna remind us that our own faithfulness to prayer can help to make us more sensitive to the various, and sometimes surprising, ways that the Lord is present to us throughout our life. The time we spent with the Lord in prayer makes it easier for us to recognize him when he comes to us.

And/Or

(vi) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

Today is a day when we traditionally bless candles. It is a feast of light, of God’s light revealed in Jesus. In the gospel reading Simeon declares Jesus to be a light to enlighten the pagans, as well as being the glory of Israel. Today’s feast closes the Christmas festival of light. It is a joyful feast and, yet, a shadow is cast over this joyful scene in the Temple in Jerusalem. Having declared the child Jesus to be God’s light to enlighten the pagans and to bring glory to Israel, Simeon goes on to declare that this same child is also destined to be a sign that is rejected. Not everyone will welcome the light that he brings which is why this child, according to Simeon, is destined for the fall and the rising of many in Israel. Some in Israel will stumble over Jesus; others will be lifted up by him. In the language of the fourth gospel, ‘the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil’. We are all capable of turning away from the light, the light of God’s love and God’s truth shining through Jesus. We can be more comfortable with lesser lights. Yet, the light of God continues to shine through Jesus, the risen Lord. No amount of human rejection diminishes that light. Every day we are called by God to keep turning towards this radiant light of Jesus, after the example of Simeon and Anna in the gospel reading.

And/Or

(vii) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

In today’s first reading, the prophet Malachi announces that the Lord will one day enter his Temple in Jerusalem as the refiner and purifier of his people, so that their worship will be as the Lord desires it. In the gospel of John, Jesus declares that he will enable people to worship God as God wants to be worshipped, a worship in spirit and truth. Jesus is referring to a worship of God that is inspired by the Spirit of Truth, the Holy Spirit. This worship of God, inspired by the Spirit of God, is not confined to a religious building, a church. The Spirit inspires us to worship God not only with our lips, as in the liturgy, but with our lives. Saint Paul in his letter to the Romans refers to our spiritual worship, by which he means a worship which embraces all of our lives. He calls on us to present our bodies, our embodied selves, as a living sacrifice, holy and acceptable to God. This is the worship of our lives. Each day we are to offer our lives to God. This was the kind of worship that characterized the life of Jesus. In the gospel reading, Mary and Joseph came to the principal place of worship for Jews, the Temple. They come not just to worship, but to present their son to God. As an adult, Jesus lived out that presentation of himself to God that was made by his parents at this time. Throughout his adult life, Jesus presented himself as a living sacrifice to God, in the words of Saint Paul. He lived his life with a clear focus on God at all times. Jesus calls on us to have that same focus. Because Jesus is the full revelation of God, to live our lives with a clear focus on God amount sto living our lives with a clear focus on Jesus, our risen Lord. Today’s feast encourages us to keep presenting ourselves, our hearts, minds and bodies, to the Lord. We are to keep our relationship with the Lord to the fore in all we say and do. In that way, our whole lives will be a worship of the Lord.

And/Or

(viii) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord

The feast of the Presentation of the Lord is a day when, traditionally, we bless candles that will be used in the church’s liturgy or at home. The blessing and lighting of candles speaks to us of Jesus, the light of the world. When Mary and Joseph brought their child, Jesus, to the Temple in Jerusalem to present him to God, Simeon addressed their child as a ‘light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel’. We all have a longing for light, especially at this dark time of the year. During the week, we had one very bright day, when, even though it was very cold, the sun shine all day and the sky was blue from sunrise to sunset. We appreciate such days all the more in these dark winter months. When Mary and Joseph brought their new born child into the Temple, they were presenting him not just to God but, in a sense, to all of humanity as a light to shine in darkness, a ‘light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel’. We can all experience a darkness of spirit at any time of the year, but perhaps especially in the dark months of winter. Today’s feast reminds us that no matter how dark our spirit, we always walk in the light of the Lord’s presence. The candles we bless today, the candles we light in our church or in our homes. speaks to us of that greater light from God, Jesus, our risen Lord. In the words of Saint John’s gospel, ‘the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it’. Today’s feast invites us to keep opening our minds and our spirits to this light from God, which shines through Jesus. It is the light of love and the light of life. As Mary and Joseph presented Jesus in the Temple, we are invited to keep presenting ourselves to the Lord, the light of whose presence is always shining upon us, especially in those times when we sense a darkness of some kind coming over us.

Fr. Martin Hogan.

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ittybittyria · 6 years

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yet another processing post

So sometime during my first year of college someone told me that Christian communities are where you find the friends that become family. Four years later and I think that was one of the biggest pieces of bullshit I bought into.

Don't get me wrong, I've experienced A LOT of growth in the Christian communities I've been a part of and met great people, but I've also experienced an immense amount of judgement, shame, and hurt.

First off, college. LOL I say this all the time and I truly do mean it, college was probably the worst season of my life. On top of family brokenness, struggling with academics, and learning to manage several mental disorders, I had to deal with bullies, racism, sexism, rumors, exceedingly high expectations, never ending judgement companied with unwarned suggestions from several people who knew nothing about me on how to live my life, shaming, and several other things from my Christian fellowship. I think my broken idea of what family is alongside believing that Christian communities are where you find friends that become family made me think that this was okay. It literally took a complete breakdown, losing several friends / mentors, and ending up in the psych ward for me to realize that it was such a toxic environment. But, being in IV did impact me in a lot of positive ways such as personal & spiritual growth, meeting several slightly older folks who became positive role models and influences in my life, new opportunities for me to explore passions, and meeting people outside of UCD that deeply touched my heart. If I could do college over again, I'd still join IV, but I'd just do things differently. I would tell my college self to not lose yourself in the midst of all these leadership trainings / discipleship meetings / staff meet-ups, don't listen to people when they tell you who or what to give your time to because that's up to you, and that God's voice is the most important.

Looking back on college, there's really only one person I met in IV that has become family, and most of our friendship grew outside of IV considering she stopped going LOL There's others that are still friends / acquaintances that I talk to every now and then, see on social media, etc. These positive relationships that really do mean the world to me because they've really help shape me to who I am now. Being led by Victoria, being mentored by Alexi, sharing a friendship with Lily, being encouraged by Robert, etc. are things I treasure. Some of those friendships are still active on social media and it's always a reminder that college wasn't all pain. And then there's a lot of relationships that ended in hurt either through hurtful actions or fading away cause the friendship wasn't worth fostering to them. Those I still treasure for the positive moments and the season they were present in my life. But it's hard to look at those and smile because there's still a lot of hurt I have yet to move past. All in all, my college experience in a Christian community didn't showcase "friends becoming family." Rather it was a mix of meeting great people that challenged me and inspired me, and meeting people that made me lose myself and cause a deep amount of hurt.

As for post-grad, welp. It's been a journey. There's everything with Bayside Davis, which has been negative for the most part. Then there's my small group, which has been a difficult mix of both positive and negative. Positive because I genuinely love my small group. I enjoy our biblical discussions, I feel challenged and encouraged by them, we've shared a lot of laughs, and they're just great people overall. I just feel myself growing with this group and I enjoy the presence of each person. But negative because we aren't really a community LOL All we do is see each other on Thursday's and sometimes at church, and all we ever talk about is from the guided discussion at SG. We've had like four hang outs, three of which I've attended, and they've either been barely anyone or really short or no good chats about getting to know each other. So it's been weird to be in this group and feel growth personally and spiritually, but not in community. It's kinda weird heh.

And today, well, today made cry...a lot. A few days ago I texted my SG being real about how holidays are hard because my family and I go to different churches (it's a lot more than that but I wasn't get too deep into it over text lmao) and I tend to go alone and I was open with them and said that I didn't want to spend Easter morning at church alone and I was hoping to be with community. I asked which service they were going to and if I could join them. Only Elvira responded and she let me know that her and Kevin were serving at the 9am, but that means they don't get to sit during service. No one else responded and I assumed they'd gone back to their hometowns to be with family or just weren't going to Midtown. So I cried last night because I really just didn't want to go church alone. But I woke up this morning feeling good. My window was open, birds were singing, the sun was rising, and I just felt good. I was reminded that I was going to church alone, but I wasn't alone. I went to the 9am service, sat by myself, and loved every second of it. Could it have been better shared with community? Hell yeah, but I was still filled with joy. When I got to my car, someone from SG texted asking where people were sitting and they sent a picture and lookie there, my SG was all together for the second service. I just sat in my car trying not ruin my make-up with tears. I fought them back for a solid 30 minutes.

What got me was that there's a guy in my SG who I've known all through college. He's seen me through a lot and I've opened up to him. He knows the issues with my family and I've talked about how hard holidays are for me. And he couldn't even text me to tell me what service he was going to. I'm like 10x more angry and frustrated with him than the rest of my SG. I literally save him a seat every regular Sunday and his ass walks in late with a donut and coffee every time. Like he couldn't just respond and say 11am. It takes less than a minute to type and send that. And hearing all my family problems and the pain I carry along with it, he just couldn't fucking do it. Y'all I cannot even put into words how unloved I felt today by him.

And even my SG. I was honestly disappointed. I've planned all our hang outs, I've missed TWO small groups (one for a car problem and the other because I wanted to support a friend at her performance). They even said I get the award for best attendance cause I've probably been to the most SG's and YP events. I take time every weekend to pray for their prayer requests and if God brings something up when I pray, I text them. I don't do this to get anything back, like I promise I don't. I genuinely do this because I love my SG, I want the best for them, and I care about them. But I am hurt that no one could just say "11am" when I asked what service. Like...where are the friends that become family?

When I look at the people in my life and I see the friends that have become family, I didn't meet them jn Christian communities. I met them in HS (which was a catholic HS but it doesn't count cause it's totally different lmao) and through those HS friends. They've become family and most of them don't even fucking live in the same city as me. I've seen us travel miles on miles to celebrate birthdays, support each other at performances, be there at graduations, welcome people back at the airport, etc. I've seen us stick up for each other when racism and/or sexual harassment as come up, challenge each other to be better, call each other out on shit we do, etc. I've seen us laugh and cry all in the same hour, be vulnerable and share our stories, listen well and honor the stories we hear, etc. I've seen us go above and beyond to be good friends to each other and these are the friends that have become family.

I don't expect Jessica to fly to celebrate my birthday with me and I don't expect Luis to tell a guy to go away and leave me alone when he's been harassing me and I don't expect Holly to feed me chips outside the club when my drunk ass is hungry. I don't expect these of them and I'd never ask this of them. But a fucking text back when I send you a long message about why I'm thankful were part of my 2017 and how I hope you have a full and joyful 2018 would be nice. Like a thank you. Or you could even just heart the damn message. Or John could just say "I'm going to the 11am service" when I ask our SG which Easter service their going to so I don't go alone. Or even a "thanks for saving a seat" on Sunday's. But nothing. I don't even expect my friends friends to go above and beyond. Like I'm fucking living when they text me saying they also like Enlightened more than they like Halo Top and "OMG did you smell the easter bath bombs at lush? I think you'd like it." Honestly being friends with me really isn't hard. Like my biggest things are initiating every now and then, stick to your word and show up when you say you'll show up, and fucking texting back. Those are the main things and I really don't think they're that complex / difficult. Yet it seems like the only people that can do that in my life are Sabrina, my HS friends, and the friends I met through them. And relating back to what I was originally processing, Sabrina is the only one I met through a Christian community. Goes to show that the whole "Christian communities are where you meet the friends that become family" didn't happen for me heh

It's hard cause I have to remind myself that not everyone wants a friendship with me. But at the same time, don't ask me to plan SG hang outs or show up late to church cause you wanted Starbucks and you know I'll save you a seat or ask me for a ride somewhere when you don't plan on being a friend to me. Don't sit their receiving the benefits of a friendship with me without being a fucking friend to me. Recognize that you're taking advantage of it and either fucking stop or be a friend. Cause it hurts from this side of the situation.

LOL wow this post took a turn. I went from talking about buying into the bullshit that Christian communities hold the best friendships you'll have to just friendship in general to getting really fucking mad at people. I think the turn this took is a sign that I need to spend some time in prayer and with God cause there ain't no room in my heart for this bitterness.

Okay I'm tired now and I want to watch Grey's Anatomy to let my brain just stop thinking for a bit and I also need to go pray cause yeah, bitterness ain't cool n shit

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ourkinfolx · 4 years

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No. 3: Cassie

How have you been sleeping lately?

Either I don't sleep at all, or I wake up in intervals, in a panic. I had one week where I did not sleep at all. And then recently, I'll wake up, look around, and be like, "Okay, everybody's still alive."

I've always had insomnia, but it's been weird since the pandemic because sometimes I'll be able to lay down and just go to sleep, which I've never been able to do.

It's so peaceful in the apocalypse, right?

I think the emotional trauma that I experience throughout the day makes me tired enough to find a way to sleep. And so it's either that or I'm just in a constant panic. I think we're just in a time where so many things are happening all the time, so many traumatizing things constantly.

Can you describe your activism in terms of your identity?

It's mostly lupus focused, and sometimes I speak on racism within the medical industry because it is so rampant and such a huge deal. I've experienced it so much [since my lupus diagnosis right years ago].

Eight years ago was when you got your lupus diagnosis?

Yes, 2012.

What unique experiences have you had as a black woman with a chronic illness?

One of the hardest things about lupus is chronic pain, and doctors can be very aggressive about their belief that black people feel less pain than everyone else. For example, a few years ago, I had a gastrointestinal infection. I had gone to work with it, and I thought it was just a stomachache, but as time went on, it got so bad that I was literally laying on the floor of my job.

They called the ambulance. When I got to the hospital, the lady kept asking me questions, but I couldn't answer them because I was in so much pain. But she asked me, continuously, if I was on drugs. She kept accusing me of being a drug addict.

I had IV bruises because this was at the beginning of my lupus when I was in and out of the hospital pretty often. She made it seem like they were track marks, but if you've ever seen an IV bruise and a track mark, they're obviously very different. So, situations like that are always at the forefront of my mind.

I've been sent to 50,000 doctors about pain. No one knows the source of it, or what to do about it. It's been called 50 trillion things. Nerve pain, fibromyalgia. I hear, "it's just your lupus," more times than I can fucking count.

What can you tell me about your involvement in the Trust Me I'm Sick docuseries?

There's this girl, Erica, that had been following me on Instagram for a while. She reached out and told me she was doing a documentary. She'd read a few of my posts and was like, "you're really open about [your chronic illness]" and asked if I wanted to take part in this documentary about physical illnesses. And I was like, "yeah, sure!"

[The documentary] is basically us talking about our day to day, how we have relationships, how we maintain a work-life balance. We talk about how work affects our chronic illnesses and how our chronic illnesses affect work.

And it's called Trust Me I'm Sick since some days, I might look perfectly fine, but I don't feel fine most of the time.

What was it about the project that made you want to get involved?

A lot of the time, when trying to talk about [chronic illness] to friends or even family, you feel this sense of alienation. But I've met people in waiting rooms of doctors' offices who also have lupus and who I became friends with because to just hear someone else's story or to have someone empathize and relate to you is so powerful in a way that I can't describe.⁠

Sometimes when I post, I'll get messages from people who have never commented on anything I've ever posted, and they're like "I just want you to know, I have this chronic illness, and I read all of your posts. I relate to all of it. I just wanted you to know I hear everything you⁠ say.'"

So my whole reason for doing this was: if even one person feels like someone relates to them or feels good hearing they're not the only one-- that makes this purposeful.

Many of the black women I've talked to have noticed a difference in their interactions with white people since the recent BLM movement. Is this something you can relate to?

Most of my friends are black, so it's mostly been lots of discussions with them. I did have a conflicting opinion about race with one white friend, and well... we're no longer friends.

And I'm very willing to have those conversations with my white friends. It doesn't benefit any of us to have white friends that we're unwilling to have those conversations with. Because then they just get to go off and continue living with their ignorance, and that affects us in ways that we don't even realize

Within the black community, when you hear "Black Lives Matter," do you feel it's inclusive?

This question is so loaded! When saying Black Lives Matter, you don't want to bring up issues within the black community because this isn't the time to address those problems.

And [a lot of the lack of inclusivity in BLM] stems from this system that promotes white Christian heteronormative male dominance and black performance of that dominance. AKA it's white people's fault

But, to be real, there are disproportionate numbers of black trans women killed and black disabled people are killed at a shockingly higher number. We want to be able to say all black lives but everyone doesn't mean all black lives.

Not being heterosexual and growing up in a black family, I see how that affects my life every day. I grew up in a super Christian family. I was sent to my aunt's house and made to go to church like three or four days a week when I was in middle school.

And even in the last few years, we've seen this extreme push towards trans visibility and trans acceptance, but even now [some] people are still like, "I don't get it. And because I don't get it, I don't like it." Which is a phobia.

I think it's important to have those sectors and have those times where we say "black disabled lives matter" or "trans blacks lives matter, but the overall theme should still be black lives matter.

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ft-ca · 5 years

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forcing myself to write this/not numb my loneliness for half an hour bc fam left and its an empty house again

ok so 2 years later im thinking exchanging i miss you texts with my professor. my married with 2 daughters professor was probably a weird thing

why am i thinking about this 2 years later? i had a beautiful moment of human connection yesterday at work and i think the last time i felt this way or experienced something like this was 2 years ago, with mw, the above. i dont know how to explain it or put it into words but i’ll try.

its when you meet someone and you dont really know them, and you havent talked that much. like a little. but not that much. and theres still more to know and more to discover. but meanwhile, there’s a mutual awareness. of presence. of always subconsciously knowing where the other is in the room. of whether they are in the room. of scooching in when the other has to pass. of being aware of their awareness of you. there’s the eyes. always the eyes. contact. knowing looks. stolen glances. and the call. out of everyone in the department, she calls you. you figure something out together. the texts that follow. and its just you and her. no one else. she thinks youre special. you think shes pretty rad too. no one has any idea any of this has happened.

it was the same with m. we had the connection, the same looks, the texts, that no one else knew about but us. my verbal communication could be better, but my nonverbal is there. i get along best with people who can read me. not everyone can. not everyone wants to. the people who can and want to, make me feel seen. deeply seen. and being seen is the best, most life-giving gift of all.

i think im starting to become who i want to be. taylor asked me how much money he should contribute to the coffee fund. i think its bc i found his watch for him. dude, i dont drink coffee. but i told him $5 should be fine. there were 4 other people in the room, he couldve asked. and honestly, couldve asked anybody in the dept. im becoming a person that people go to. im proud of myself. ive always looked for people that i could go to and look up to. ive also witnessed so incredibly generous and affirming and validating people. ive always aspired to be one of them. and maybe im starting to now that im here. ive been struggling to find my place in this dept. but maybe this is what and who i can be.

theres ways to go. the parents have gone back. i need to call some therapists to see if they can accommodate my rotating shifts. to deal with childhood traumas and to names the things that have happened and are still happening. im also seriously questioning where i am in the lgbtq+ spectrum. ive met this guy whos literally so kind and so thoughtful and well groomed and like perfect. but i have this discomfort. idk if its bc its been a while/never since i did this. or some other reason. i dont know. determined to find out in 2019. i feel like none of this would feel like such a big deal if i grew up NOT with a christian background. i just dont feel very free to explore this part of myself. and i can hear my parents voices in the back of my mind. and maybe even my own. i think its good i havent been to church in 6+ months. de-constructing my faith and rebuilding it slowly to a non-toxic, more loving, truthful version is necessary. its also difficult. what has been drilled into me since infancy. difficult. and i dare not tell my pastor parents about any of this. which is pretty sad on their part, because theyre missing out on my story with the (or the feeling of the) environment and mindset theyve created.

2019 bitches. looking forward to how this connection with cr develops, hesitantly looking forward to more dates with k, looking forward to therapy, a new roommate, looking forward to growing and maturing always. 25 for 7 more months and then its the late twenties. excited to see who i’ll be at the end of the year. lots has happened since residency ended/my life started. hopeful for whats still to come.

#this was more than half an hour #proofread but letting go of perfectionism in 2019 #tyvm for reading #goodnight #ft #ca #cr #mw #kd #back to numbing :)

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romancatholicreflections · 7 years

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2nd February >> Fr. Martin’s Reflection on Today’s Gospel Reading (Luke 2:22-40) for the Feast of the Presentation of the Lord: ‘ A light to enlighten the pagans’.

Feast of the Presentation of the Lord Gospel (Europe, New Zealand, Australia, Canada & South Africa) Luke 2:22-40 When the day came for them to be purified as laid down by the Law of Moses, the parents of Jesus took him up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, – observing what stands written in the Law of the Lord: Every first-born male must be consecrated to the Lord – and also to offer in sacrifice, in accordance with what is said in the Law of the Lord, a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons. Now in Jerusalem there was a man named Simeon. He was an upright and devout man; he looked forward to Israel’s comforting and the Holy Spirit rested on him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he would not see death until he had set eyes on the Christ of the Lord. Prompted by the Spirit he came to the Temple and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to do for him what the Law required, he took him into his arms and blessed God; and he said: ‘Now, Master, you can let your servant go in peace, just as you promised; because my eyes have seen the salvation which you have prepared for all the nations to see, a light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of your people Israel.’ As the child’s father and mother stood there wondering at the things that were being said about him, Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, ‘You see this child: he is destined for the fall and for the rising of many in Israel, destined to be a sign that is rejected – and a sword will pierce your own soul too – so that the secret thoughts of many may be laid bare.’ There was a prophetess also, Anna the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was well on in years. Her days of girlhood over, she had been married for seven years before becoming a widow. She was now eighty-four years old and never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. She came by just at that moment and began to praise God; and she spoke of the child to all who looked forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. When they had done everything the Law of the Lord required, they went back to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. Meanwhile the child grew to maturity, and he was filled with wisdom; and God’s favour was with him. Gospel (USA) Luke 2:22–40 My eyes have seen your salvation. When the days were completed for their purification according to the law of Moses, Mary and Joseph took Jesus up to Jerusalem to present him to the Lord, just as it is written in the law of the Lord, Every male that opens the womb shall be consecrated to the Lord, and to offer the sacrifice of a pair of turtledoves or two young pigeons, in accordance with the dictate in the law of the Lord. Now there was a man in Jerusalem whose name was Simeon. This man was righteous and devout, awaiting the consolation of Israel, and the Holy Spirit was upon him. It had been revealed to him by the Holy Spirit that he should not see death before he had seen the Christ of the Lord. He came in the Spirit into the temple; and when the parents brought in the child Jesus to perform the custom of the law in regard to him, He took him into his arms and blessed God, saying: “Now, Master, you may let your servant go in peace, according to your word, for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you prepared in the sight of all the peoples: a light for revelation to the Gentiles, and glory for your people Israel.” The child’s father and mother were amazed at what was said about him; and Simeon blessed them and said to Mary his mother, “Behold, this child is destined for the fall and rise of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be contradicted —and you yourself a sword will pierce— so that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.” There was also a prophetess, Anna, the daughter of Phanuel, of the tribe of Asher. She was advanced in years, having lived seven years with her husband after her marriage, and then as a widow until she was eighty-four. She never left the temple, but worshiped night and day with fasting and prayer. And coming forward at that very time, she gave thanks to God and spoke about the child to all who were awaiting the redemption of Jerusalem. When they had fulfilled all the prescriptions of the law of the Lord, they returned to Galilee, to their own town of Nazareth. The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him. Reflections (5) (i) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord Today is a day when we traditionally bless candles. It is a feast of light, of God’s light revealed in Jesus. In the gospel reading Simeon declares Jesus to be a light to enlighten the pagans, as well as being the glory of Israel. Today’s feast closes the Christmas festival of light. It is a joyful feast and, yet, a shadow is cast over this joyful scene in the Temple in Jerusalem. Having declared the child Jesus to be God’s light to enlighten the pagans and to bring glory to Israel, Simeon goes on to declare that this same child is also destined to be a sign that is rejected. Not everyone will welcome the light that he brings which is why this child, according to Simeon, is destined for the fall and the rising of many in Israel. Some in Israel will stumble over Jesus; others will be lifted up by him. In the language of the fourth gospel, ‘the light has come into the world, and people loved darkness rather than light because their deeds were evil’. We are all capable of turning away from the light, the light of God’s love and God’s truth shining through Jesus. We can be more comfortable with lesser lights. Yet, the light of God continues to shine through Jesus, the risen Lord. No amount of human rejection diminishes that light. Every day we are called by God to keep turning towards this radiant light of Jesus, after the example of Simeon and Anna in the gospel reading. And/Or (ii) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord Today we celebrate Jesus’ presentation in the Temple in Jerusalem by his parents, in accordance with the Jewish Law. In the opening chapters of his gospel, Luke portrays Jesus’ parents as faithfully observing the Jewish Law. In this way he wants to stress that the movement that became known as Christianity has its roots deeply in the Jewish faith. In the Jewish Scriptures, especially in the prophet Isaiah, Israel’s role was to be a light to the Gentiles, to reveal the light of God to the world. According to our gospel reading, the elderly Simeon, a devout Jew, recognizes Mary and Joseph’s child as the one who is to embody this calling of Israel. He is to be a light to enlighten the pagans, and in being faithful to this role he will bring glory to Israel. Simeon had spent his life looking forward to ‘Israel’s comforting’. When Mary and Joseph entered the Temple with their new born first child on that day, Simeon’s longings and hopes were brought to fulfilment. It has been said that Simeon has become the patron saint of those who, having found meaning at last in their lives, are able to let go and surrender to the Lord. His prayer of surrender has become part of the Night Prayer of the Church. We pray that prayer as people who have been graced by God’s light shining through Jesus. Like Simeon, we have come to recognize Jesus as the light to enlighten the pagans and the glory of Israel. We have candles blessed on this day; we light them and carry them as a sign of our joy of discovering Jesus as the light of the world. Indeed, every time we light a candle in church or at home, we are acknowledging Jesus as the light of the world and we are also recognizing our own need for his light as we struggle with the various forms of darkness in our lives. And/Or (iii) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord This morning’s gospel reading features a man and a woman, Simeon and Anna, who had given themselves over to the service of the Lord for many years. Simeon is described as upright and devout, on whom the Holy Spirit rested. It is said of Anna that she never left the Temple, serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. As well as being the Feast of the Presentation, today is also the World Day for Consecrated Life. Simeon and Anna remind us of those men and women who have consecrated themselves to serve the Lord in the religious life. Today we thank God for them all and we ask God’s blessing upon them. Simeon and Anna’s close relationship with the Lord gave them a special gift of insight. When Mary and Joseph brought Jesus into the Temple, Simeon recognized their child as a ‘light to enlighten the pagans’ and as ‘the glory of your people Israel’. Anna recognized their child as the one who fulfilled the hopes of those who were looking forward to the deliverance of Jerusalem. They had a rich insight into who this child really was and they shared this insight with others; they continue to share their insight with us this morning. As our relationship with the Lord deepens, through prayer and through our following his way, we too will grow in our insight into who he is and into the meaning of his whole ministry from his birth to resurrection and we too will be called upon to witness to that growing insight as Simeon and Anna did. This morning, we celebrate Simeon’s insight into Jesus as the light to enlighten all peoples. We recognize our own need for this light and we invite the Lord to shine his light into whatever darkness may be in our own hearts and lives. And/Or (iv) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord The gospel reading for today’s feast describes a meeting between a young couple and their infant child and two people who were well on in years, Simeon and Anna. Simeon’s response when he met the infant Jesus was to pray; he blessed God. His prayer has become part of the official prayer of the church and is prayed every night by those who pray night prayer. Anna’s response on meeting the child Jesus was to speak about Jesus to others, especially to those who were waiting for God to visit them in a special way. Simeon’s meeting with Jesus and his parents led him to look upwards towards God in prayer; Anna’s meeting with Jesus and his parents led her to look outwards towards others in witness. Simeon and Anna have each something to say to us about how to receive the Lord. We too are called to respond to the Lord’s coming to us as light of the world, in the same two-fold way, in prayer and in witness. We bless God, we thank God, in prayer for the gift of his Son, the light to enlighten all people, and we also allow that light to shine through us before others, by witnessing to the Lord in the way that we live, by what we say and do. The Lord who entered the temple in Jerusalem as the light of the world has entered and is entering all our lives; this morning we look to Simeon and Anna to show us how best to respond to his gracious coming. And/Or (v) Feast of the Presentation of the Lord At the centre of today’s gospel reading are two older people, Simeon and Anna. They were both blessed with the gift of recognition or insight. They both recognized the true identity of the child who was carried into the temple by his young parents. Simeon recognized Jesus as the light to enlighten the pagans and as the glory of Israel. Anna recognized him as the Deliverer for whom people had been waiting. They both went on to proclaim to others what they had come to recognize for themselves. Their gift of recognition was the fruit of their prayer. They were people of prayer; Simeon’s prayer has become part of the Night Prayer of the church; Anna is described as serving God night and day with fasting and prayer. Their prayerfulness made them sensitive to the Lord’s presence and helped them to recognize the Lord even in the surprising form of the new born child of a young couple. Simon and Anna remind us that our own faithfulness to prayer can help to make us more sensitive to the various, and sometimes surprising, ways that the Lord is present to us throughout our life. The time we spent with the Lord in prayer makes it easier for us to recognize him when he comes to us. Fr Martin Hogan, Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin, Ireland. Parish Website: www.stjohnsclontarf.ieJoin us via our webcam. Twitter: @SJtBClontarfRC. Facebook: St John the Baptist RC Parish, Clontarf. Tumblr: Saint John the Baptist Parish, Clontarf, Dublin.

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halcyon-bluevista · 3 years

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My Coming Out Story! Bisexual Woman to Straight Woman. LGBTQ+ Friendly (NOT A TESTIMONY)

Hi! This is my story of coming out as a straight woman from a former bisexual women. Id just like to make the disclaimer that this is not a religious testimony, it is not an attempt to convert anybody and I am an ally of the LGBTQ+ community! I intend to share my story for myself and for others who may be looking for someone in relation to themselves for it has been my personal struggle to find advice, help, and sympathy on this topic.

I grew up in a Pentecostal church, attended church every Sunday and youth groups every Wednesday. Before I left the church and denounced my faith as a Christian I was a good little baptized church girl but had not yet been exposed to the hatred and or disbelief/ nonacceptance of the LGBTQ+ community within it. As I got older, and I started to understand the themes in service and youth group sermons. They became heavier and unjustified to me. It was hard for me to listen and accept the “sin” of same sex love.

As a little girl (11-13), I had already innocently engaged in same sex acts with my girl friends. Playing imaginary games like house (as kids do), acting as the man/husband in the relationship, kissing, touching, reenacting the things we saw our parents do. I was definitely aware of my sexual attraction at a young age but had never been aware of the skewed views the world had on gay people, so sexual feelings were just feelings to me, I didn't know what I was doing just what felt good at the time. As I got older and dating came into play for us the norm was girl/guy relationships and that is what I fell into as well.

In 9th grade my mother came out as lesbian. By this time I had already been inching my way out of the church because of my counter beliefs. It came to no surprise to me really as I had already had a hunch, turns out it took her so long to come out to me because she thought I was homophobic, and oh was she wrong. I had already had my first girl/girl sexual experience and thought I was bisexual too. My aunt, a flamboyant lesbian woman who I adore and admire had me integrated into the LGBTQ+ community since I was 7. I have always loved everyone for whoever they are and whoever they loved, it never phased me.

Since I had such a strong sense of community and acceptance around me, I never had to go through the struggle of coming out. Most of my friends had told me I was gay even before I fully accepted it myself and my mum had always encouraged me to bring home women over men. To me it felt like it was my destiny to be Bisexual.

My first relationship was with a man and lasted about 3.5 years, grade 9-11. After this ended I wanted to explore my sexuality more, as one should if they feel inclined. Things were quite rough for me at home and I went through a traumatizing experience (sexual assault) that left me with no friends. From here I fell into the arms of a fairy tale of woman that showed me empathy, compassion and remorse in my time of need. I thought I had fallen in love, and I did, just not in the way I now know love to be as an adult. She was so freely open with her sexuality, and opened me up to so much in the LGBTQ+ community that I still hadn't seen (being from a small town). This came to an abrupt end to me as my traumatizing experience left me with a lot of unbearable baggage. So I moved to the city.

After moving to the city things didn't get much better. Things were still rocky at home for me. I left home at 16, taking on the world for myself. Renting, working, and going to school, through this I really dove into my bisexual urges. I slept with woman and men quite equally and declared myself openly a bisexual woman with no question about it.

Im 21 now, and finally starting to figure out my sexuality. I have been questioning the psychology behind why im attracted to men and why im attracted to women and its been a frightening and difficult journey. If I dive into why im attracted to men it makes sense in my head, love, romance, lust, marriage, instinctual, future & growth, protection, and you know all the average straight people do das. But when I question why im attracted to women it gets gray. I cant see myself romantically involved with women, or see a future with them. I would be considered what is called a “top”, to break it down in gender role terms, the man, I wear the pants when im with women. There had to be reason to this, why dont I feel romantic feelings to these women that im so blatantly attracted to if I can feel romantic feelings towards men?

This is what ive come to, and remember this is a personal journey, I dont expect this to make sense or reside with other bisexual woman who also dont feel romantic feelings towards woman because sexuality is different for everyone. I think being with women gave me a sense of power and control. Something I lacked a lot of in my teenage years. What I also recently realized is that I dont let women perform sexual acts to me, because I lose that sense of control, something I only feel comfortable giving away to men. On top of this I see that when I did experiment with letting women try sexual acts on me, I couldn't get into it or id lose the feeling or desire completely and I have never reached climax or came close from it. I appreciate the intrinsic value of beauty women are born with and I think many and most women are born with this ranging ability.

With all of this in mind I have come to the conclusion that I am not really Bisexual, but rather straight. Now, coming to this conclusion has been hard for a number of reasons. 1. I couldn't find anyone online or in real life with similar experience. This really bothered me, I know its not difficult socially to be straight as thats just the norm, but since my norm is the LGBTQ+ world, it was for me. I searched and searched and searched for someone or something I could relate to but all of my finding resulted in videos or articles or people talking about, Conversion camps (YUCK), religious testimonies where people have “seen the light of gods word” and now think they have sinned in their past, or extreme left/liberal men and women telling me I am being conditioned or brainwashed from my liberation. I WAS ANGRY and felt alone. I still am and this is why im writing this, in hope that someone going through a similar scenario can find this and feel comfort in the fact that they are not alone 2. I thought I was going to lose my community. Since I had no support system or advice/help on my coming out path, I had convinced myself the LGBTQ+ community would shun me for being straight ~which I now know is ridiculous because we love people with whatever sexuality they identify with~ The LGBTQ+ community has been my home and the number one place I felt accepted regardless of my sexuality. Losing them would be like losing my family. and 3. I didn't think people would believe me. To my friends and family ive always been the one so comfortable being the bisexual I thought I was. I was scared for the comments and justification I would have to bring to the table while making this bold statement. As I built up the courage to do this though, my lovely peoples around me have proven me so wrong and I cant thank them enough for it.

Here is what I have to say to anyone who is coming to these terms for themselves. There is no one way street, if something can happen one way it can happen another. You are not losing anything by being your true self. Dont be afraid to come to your friends and community with your questions and concerns. If people accept you you're in the right crowd and theres nothing wrong with changing your sexuality as you grow one way or the other. We need to be comfortable with our sexuality and not be influenced or conditioned into thinking one way or the other but rather discover by exploration who we truly are. You are loved and if you dont feel that way there are people out there that will love you for you. Me being one, id also like to use this as a open invitation for people to discuss everything I have said either with me ~my inbox is open~ or in the public and I encourage people with similar experiences to share their stories so we dont feel so alone!

I genuinely thank anyone who took the time to read this lengthy post as its something iv wanted to share for a while. Peace & Love.

#straight #coming out #bisexual #lgbtq #lgbtq friendly #sexuality #love #bi #bi women #straight women #support #lgbtq+#friends #family #accepted

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ecotone99 · 4 years

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[HR] A Wholly Superior Creature - Part IV: The God

Part IV: The God

We rolled out of Roger's neck of the woods and I set the wheels back toward the center of the city. My heart was in my throat and I wasn't sure why. I needed to get my mind off Roger and what he'd done.

"So what got you kicked out of the fold, Padre?"

I didn't actually expect him to answer, but he opened right up.

"The Church made the same damn mistake they've been making since the Christianity first got started," he said.

"What's that?"

"They forced a priest to decide between doing right, or being orthodox.."

"Didn't go over well, I take it."

"It's my happiest sin, the one that got me excommunicated."

I had to know. "You officiate a gay wedding or something?"

"I performed an unsanctioned exorcism on an unbaptized child despite receiving direct orders from the Vatican not to do so."

"Shit," I said.

He nodded. "Indeed."

"So you pulled a demon out of a little kid," the words sounded just as stupid coming out of my mouth.

"I did."

"So that's what you do. That's what you're in a rush to get to Chicago over, right? Some true believer has problems with the supernatural and you take a flight, smash the problem like King Kong, then head back to the city for a fresh cup of Joe and some esoteric reading."

I could see out of my peripheral vision that he was just staring ahead, his bone pale skin flashing like a ghost haunting the passing street lamps on Ellison Street.

"If I owned my own life," he said grimly. "I'd probably choose another line of work--but I don't, so here I am." He turned his head to look at me, I was pretty sure that he was done with my flippant probing. "It has to be hard hearing what Roger had to say about what he did with the Mueller case."

"If you're trying to turn this car into a confessional, Father, I can go ahead and pump those brakes for you." He had opened up about his professional tragedies, that didn't mean I had to do the same. "I can't blame Roger for what he did. I won't. Can't say I'd have made the same decision, hell, I'd like to think that I would have stuck it out."

"Isn't that what we're about to do, Detective?"

I gave my eyebrows an elevator ride. "Maybe we hear something, maybe we don't. Maybe we find these Faceless Children or maybe we come out of the sewer in a few hours smelling like shit, holding nothing but our dicks in our hand. Either way, I intend to find some answers."

"If you're so matter of fact about all this, Sam, if you're so calm about it, do you want to tell me why your knuckles are white around the wheel?"

He was right, I was on edge. I had a hold on the wheel like it had taken my lunch money in the fifth grade. I eased up. "My dad wasn't a religious man, but there was a kind of genuineness to him that I never really appreciated until after he was gone. He used to say, 'Son, the only thing that matters in this life are the promises we keep to the people we love.' That stuck with me and hearing Roger tonight reminded me of it."

Father Daniel nodded. "You think he was keeping a promise to Carol."

"I do," I said, as I wheeled the car to the curb of the intersection of Bass and Ellison. "I also think he broke a promise to the people he swore to protect."

"That's a tall ladder of piety to climb for any person, Sam."

I shifted the car into park and looked at him. "Well, Dan, it's hard to deal with the fact that my mentor, the man who helped shape everything about who I am as a police officer, allowed a couple of spooky echoes to convince him to destroy evidence and give up on a case that, if he'd solved it, might mean that Courtney Davidson would be at home tonight with her family instead of being prepared for a closed casket funeral."

His hands were folded in his lap as he regarded me. "You're angry with him."

"Goddamn right I am."

"OK. Are you going to forgive him for loving his wife more than he loved his oath?"

I don't think I've ever rolled my eyes so hard as I did then. "You're so full of it."

"You love Roger. If you didn't you wouldn't be this mad. Forgiveness is love in action. Roger rightly deserves your forgiveness, just like you have every right to be angry with his failure."

I'm not much for yelling, but this Sunday school bullshit was getting on my nerves. "I didn't ask for your counsel, Dan. I'm not a Christian and you sure as hell aren't my priest."

The way his mouth turned to a frown showed me that I'd found one of the ways to wound him. He said. "Of course I am."

I shook my head in frustration. "Jesus Christ," I said on purpose. "Can we please just go into the sewer and look for these Molech-worshiping dickheads?"

I got out, popped my trunk and grabbed two flashlights and my shotgun. I handed the priest a flashlight and nodded my head to the open trunk. "There's a crowbar in there for the manhole. Seeing as I'm sure you've taken a vow of not shooting people I figure you can use it in case the Faceless Children don't respond to a sermon."

Father Daniel proved stronger than he looked by the way he popped the top on the manhole with no more effort than cracking open a beer bottle. The damp, earthy smell hit me like a kick in the balls. I swallowed the lump in my throat and descended the iron rungs and splashed down into the ankle deep water. The priest followed suit and we both clicked on our flashlights, the beams punched shafts into the voided depths as the sound of rolling traffic bustled overhead.

I attached my flashlight to the barrel of my shotgun and pointed the killing end toward the darkness. My nose adjusted better than my eyes could as both the priest and I kept quiet, listening for the whispers that Roger was so sure we'd hear.

Roger was right. They found us.

They were more than a sound though, the noise of voices weren't so much audible in my ears as they were bouncing around in my skull. The words made no sense, a rolling jumble of noises that wore the trappings of language. Harsh consonants, like the snapping furious jaws, pounded into long vowel sounds. Before I felt my hands begin to shake, I noticed that my light was trembling in the open chasm.

Father Daniel put a hand on my shoulder, his offset eyes looking huge and owlish in the glow bleeding off his flashlight. The look of fear on his face set new wrinkles on his skin I hadn't seen before. This was not a man to be put off by such things, but he was.

It did not inspire me with confidence.

"I have no knowledge of what I'm hearing, Sam."

I grit my teeth, thinking that this grating noise was likely the last thing that Courtney Davidson ever heard. My mind's eye took me back to her crime scene and the violation made so clear in the afternoon sun.

"Let's go," I said, as we sloshed through the tepid waters in that maze of sewage and concrete. We carefully navigated to places where the voices grew in intensity and turned back from where their potency began to dwindle. Harsher and louder the voices rolled from chants into dissonant choruses that drowned out our ingress through the black water.

Our flashlights bloomed wide against something that didn't match the concave grayness of the concrete tunnel.

We stopped dead in our tracks.

My mouth fell open.

Where once had been a dead-end was a flat, rusted door that had been set in the wall like the face of a furnace. Etched in thick, crude lines was the outline of some kind of creature I'd never seen before.

I looked at Father Daniel.

He looked at me and nodded his head in confirmation of what I thought we were looking at.

I found myself so overwhelmed by the chorus burning against my brain that I found I couldn't speak for fear that I might join in the dark hymn. I turned to the priest and flicked my chin at the lever handle jutting from the door.

The door gave way with surprising ease, swinging open on heavy hinges bolted into the wall. With the doorway open, the chorus became more noise than voices, like a rolling blast of thunderclaps hammering away at my conscious mind.

Courtney Davidson's corpse flashed in my vision. The ruined flesh, the desolation of her humanity, gave me rage that pushed me through the doorway.

It was a small room and a brief inspection revealed a latched door cut into the floor. The priest reached down and pulled, the door came up a few inches, but proved too heavy for one man.

I set my shotgun aside and when he lifted again, I set my fingers underneath the cool metal as we wrenched the door open wide.

I picked up my shotgun. The flashlight lanced over Father Daniel's face to reveal a crimson pair of lines dripping from his nose. I gestured my hand across my nose to reveal the nosebleed to him, only to find that my own fingers smeared blood across my lips.

The malicious chants, oppressive now, chewed into my thoughts. I was struggling to concentrate, my heart was pounding like I was sprinting in a race I couldn't see or understand.

I shook my head, trying to throw the voices from my mind as blood from my nose slashed against my cheek. I blew out of my nostrils hard, and aimed my flashlight down into the open throat of the aperture. Where I expected to see another ladder I found a set of old stone steps that curled out of sight. A dusky, yellow light flickered in stark contrast of my own against a dark, brick wall glistening with condensation.

We made our way slowly down the steps, following the bend for several impossibly long minutes. The raging blast of abhorrent voices were so loud now that the edge of my vision began to blur. I turned back to look at Father Daniel. His face was ashen with fear. He slid the crowbar into the handles of his medical bag, and the glow of his flashlight showed a trickle of blood flowing from his ear running down his neck, staining the white collar scarlet.

The end of the steps opened like a mouth, a huge archway that gaped impossibly wide at us.

I didn't need my flashlight to see the darkly stained altar or the robed figures surrounding it—the ensconced torches gave me more light than I wanted. There were four of them standing there. Just behind them I could see two pale legs hanging over the edge of the stone lip. Set behind the altar was a huge, glowering statue; a massive bull with a giant ring of yellow metal looped among the hollows of a great iron nose. Its hands were upraised, palms facing us like the countless criminals I'd frozen in command as a beat cop. The stony skin was slathered in a crimson wash. Dozens of hollow mouths and eyes hung open, pinned to the statue's bulk in silent screams. This was a place of horror, a temple of constant slaughter where the titan god of insane men wore the skinned faces of the innocent.

I opened my mouth to let the butchers in this hellish tabernacle know what time it was. I barked an order I'd given a hundred times before, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was a hacking splatter.

I must have made some kind of noise, because one of the robed figures turned around to show us the featureless mask he wore and the crude knife he clutched in a bloody glove. He pointed at me.

The shotgun bucked in my hands.

The slug took the surprised cultist in the stomach, punching a hole in him the size of a baseball. Blood splashed against the stone altar behind him.

I went to rack another shell but the pump stalled on me, jamming the cartridge in the ejector like an old man chewing a cigar. I looked up only to find one of the cultists coming at me with murder in his eyes and a curved knife in his hands. I grabbed my shotgun by the warm barrel and swung the stock in a hard, flat arc that caught the cultist in the face. The mask he wore shattered like a fumbled dinner plate. I looked up thinking I'd see the last two cultist rushing me and the priest to finish our little reenactment of Bunker Hill.

The last two figures were still at the altar.

They were still carving into the body.

I pulled my revolver from inside my coat and fired the only warning shot I was willing to give that day, and they were lucky to get that. "Freeze, motherfuckers. Put your hands in the air, then, slowly, get those dicks in the dirt!"

"That is impossible." A woman's voice came from the taller of the two remaining cultists. She turned and slipped the featureless mask from her face. The hood of the robe fell back, her auburn hair shimmered in the torchlight. Whatever might have been her face was now a ruin of dark scars and pale flesh.

"Get on the ground. Now!" I could hear my voice again, the whispers were gone.

"We are subjects of the horned one, Police Man," she said, somehow making the title feel like the most insignificant position in the world. "Now is the moment of waking," she said, turning back to the limp form prostrated on the table. "With this," A quiet slurping sound whispered through the room. "We conjure." She pointed the skinned face at me, the flesh dangling in the open air like stretched out baking dough.

My guts rolled over and I swallowed what flowed up into my throat. "Goddamnit! Don't make me shoot you, lady. Now step away-"

She turned away from me as if I were a child throwing a sulking fit, the complete disregard for the gun I pointed at her sent a chill down my spine. I commanded her again, but she only kept walking toward the titan bull. The other cultist followed her, a crude stone hammer and long iron nail in their hand.

The cultist I smashed with the shotgun started to moan and open his eyes. I kicked him in the head and sent him back to La-La Land.

I looked over at Father Daniel, who up to this point had been absolutely shit at helping get control of the situation. He was kneeling on the ground, his hands buried deep in the medicine bag.

"The fuck are you doing in that bag? Help me out here." I said.

"Are you going to shoot that woman before she finishes the ritual?" His words came fast, his hands worked faster.

"No," I said.

"Then I need what's in the bag."

He pulled a purple stole, each end marked with a golden cross, wrapped it around his neck and reached back in the bag only to produce a large coffee canister in one hand and a crucifix in the other.

"You've got to be fucking shitting me, Dan. What the—"

The unmasked woman had turned and given a harrowing shriek. She was staring at Father Daniel.

"Curse you, Haruspex," she screamed. "Your god has no claim down here among the blood and suffering of the horned one! Moloch does not bow before lesser creatures!"

An unnatural wind, hot and fetid, sprayed out like two smoking jets from the statue. The steamy fog billowed through the room, snuffing out the torchlight faster than clicking off a light. Blackness dark as tar cloaked everything. I spun, looking all around for my flashlight.

It was next to the shotgun on the ground. Before I could reach for it I heard a peal of a bell, a great ringing. It was a strange sound, an old sound, and it threatened to cut the courage out of me forever. Following the hollow boom of what I assumed was the hammer strike, I heard the sound of a great animal breathing. A low rumbling noise that echoed from the depth of that dark temple all the way to the sewer above us. I do not know why, but such a terror came over me that I fell to my knees and pressed the flat of my palms into my ears. My gun flew from my hands in the effort, the darkness swallowing it whole.

There came a horrible grunt, a rush of wind, a woman's scream. Then I heard what sounded like a great sheet tearing and a rush of liquid splattering on the stony floor. Unnaturally loud crunches were followed by what sounded like the grinding of stones.

My flashlight illuminated the shattered face of the man at my knees, and as all went eerily quiet save for the angry, mammoth breathing.

I reached down and gripped my flashlight. I was shaking with such ferocity that my teeth chattered in my head. The beam jerked in my hands, cresting over the bloody altar and the slender arm hanging over the edge. When the light reached the top of the altar I saw a cloven hand, the two dark nails sparkling like obsidian. Unable to stop my primate brain from the rest of the discovery, the beam of my light flashed across an inhuman face. The huge iris of the menacing bull contracted.

From somewhere in the dark came the voice of the Priest. I turned to see his own flashlight burst into the void where what I once thought was a statue had now become a living, breathing entity of unbelievable oppression. The sheer weight of its presence invaded my faculties and cracked the foundation of all bravery I'd ever learned from being on the force.

I was helpless.

I wanted to scream.

But instead I listened to the voice of Father Daniel who spoke in a harsh, racking chant that created a kind of dark light around him. The canister was clutched in his hands and he held the crucifix high above his head. Wherever the dark light of the priest touched it pushed back against the cloak of shadow that radiated from the bull.

Louder and louder Father Daniel cried. With manic eyes of blue and green he pounded the deity with commands I somehow knew were never meant to be uttered by human lips.

Suddenly he spoke in English. "Sam! You must approach and remove the flesh nailed to him! It allows him to connect to the mortal plane!"

Insanity flooded over my mind, and before I could tell my muscles to move I had taken three massive lungfuls of air and was running into the darkness armed with only a flashlight and a priestly command. The bouncing beam of the flashlight showed my advance on the massive bull, and when I reached him, I grabbed one of the long-dead faces. The flesh squished between my fingers and I yanked hard.

Over the cacophony of Father Daniel's incantation I groped and pulled and jerked nail and flesh, Moloch's bellows threatened to shatter the walls that had stood in this dark place for a hundred years or more. I took hold of the last face I could see, and I went to rip it free and save us from this living nightmare.

Suddenly, a devastating sense of pressure bent me at the waist. A flash of pain lanced through my back and I was lifted high into the air. Hooting cries of abysmal pain followed me as I felt myself floating above the darkness, the innocent body atop the stone altar, and then down into the stone floor below.

Laying there, I touched my stomach. Though I could not see anything, I felt the gaping hole that I guessed had come from a swipe of the Babylonian god's horns. The cold from the ground seemed to seep into my feet, my legs, my bones. Breathing was soon a chore as well.

Blinking and blinking, awaiting the final closing of my eyes, I was startled by an explosion of light.

"Sam, oh Christ, Sam."

"Is it--"

"Without you, it would have been impossible, Sam. You did it," he said, a lips began to tremble. "You did it."

"It's so dark down here," I said. The heat was pouring out of me now, like a busted drainpipe. "so cold. Father," I spit the words. "Father, listen to me, would you?"

"Would you like to make your confession to holy God, Sam?"

I shook my head lazily. "No, Father. I want you reach into my jacket pocket."

He did, and he found what was there.

"Open it and read the inside," a deeper darkness than I have ever known began to edge in on my vision, something more palpable than mere absence of light.

"A man delights when he does what he was built to do," Father Daniel said, his voice quavering.

"Take it with you to Chicago," I said. The priest said something and kissed my brow.

I smiled. "Take it with you everywhere."

The End

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