What is a Unitarian Universalist?

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My friend suggested recently that if I knew a little more about Jesus, I might be a Christian, she quickly apologized. But it got me thinking about my own spiritual beliefs and if I had failed to explain myself thoroughly to others. So I asked Daddy what he thought about my identifying as a Unitarian Universalist and he gently inquired “What the hell is that?”  I guess I got some explaining to do.

What do UU’s believe in?

Nothing and Everything. Basically we believe that no person, official or organization can tell us what to believe in. We believe that truth is not absolute but an ongoing search. We believe that everyone has equal claim to life, liberty and justice. And we believe in the almighty potluck.

Do you believe in a personal God?

Personally, if I was going to believe in a deity it would be a Goddess but in general, UU’s do not have a defined doctrine of God.

Do you believe in miracles?

No. Although, I believe that Robert Redford will run away with me when I win the lottery.

Do you believe in Jesus?

Yes, as one of the several important moral and ethical teachers who have shown humans to live a life of love. But we do not believe his Mama was a virgin.

Do you believe in life after death?

I believe that on days that I am feeling anxious, my mama perches herself on the tip of my mailbox post in the form of a bluejay and wishes me well on my journey. Because most UU’s believe mortality manifests itself in the lives of those we affect and the legacy we leave behind.

Are UU’s Christians?

I have heard there are some that walk among us, but I have not met them.

How do you differ from Christians?

Most UU’s reject a literal interpretation of accepted Christian beliefs. But we are down with the golden rule.

What kind of freaks are ya’ll?

UU’s are typically well-educated, moderately affluent and professionally employed. I am the exception to this rule.

Is Unitarian Universalist a religion?

Ours is a non-creedal, non- doctrinal religion which affirms an individual’s freedom of belief. It is more of a way of being religious but without a religious doctrine. For us religion is an ongoing search for meaning, value and depth in one’s life. Most UU’s do not believe a single universal religion is right for everyone.

Do you believe in sin? 

We believe that people are punished by their sins, not for them. Although I have committed many chocolate related sins.

How do you explain evil?

Oh my. UU’s cannot explain evil but we can try not to give in to it. We are active social justice activists that cannot explain why people suffer but can try to help them when they do.

Can UU’s go to heaven or hell?

I have told a lot of people to go to hell in my lifetime. UU’s do not believe that they will go to a physical destination but I certainly hope so.

Can UU’s be saved?

Okay, listen up, woman in the parking lot of Food Lion and her kind. UU’s do not believe that people are born in to a state of sin, we do not believe in an eternity of suffering in hell, we do not believe in original sin. SAVE YOURSELF!

If you do not fear God or hell, how do you know how to be a morally decent human being?

Because my mama raised me right. UU’s don’t need to feel fear to live moral and ethical lives because we do so out of a sense of responsibility to ourselves and others. We want world peace and to pass on a loving world to future generations.

What is the history of Unitarian Universalist?

Both the Unitarians and the Universalists grew out of the left-wing of the Protestant Reformation in Europe during the 16th century. Both religions originated in protest against two Calvinist doctrines: Original Sin and Predestination. Both groups came over to America in the 18th century and established themselves as liberal Christian alternatives to harsh forms of Christianity at that time. Eventually they moved away from Christianity toward a religion based on individual freedom of belief. Nowadays, a congregation might include humanists, theists, atheists, agnostics, pagans, etc.

Do you celebrate Christmas and Easter?

In my house we often find ourselves on the good list. But one year I did get a gift of men’s hiking socks and one of us was moved to the naughty list for 11 months. UU’s center these holidays around the winter solstice and spring equinox. UU’s reject the doctrine of atonement but feel comfortable with chocolate bunnies.

On what social justice issues has the church taken a position?

Marriage equality, immigration, abortion, gun control, racism, homelessness, economic justice and healthcare. UU’s most likely have a bumper sticker for Obama, although I did read one today that said “I like Big Mutts and I cannot lie”.

What does a typical Sunday service look like?

Well, we show up late so the hymns have already started.  Then there is a meditation, singing by the choir, a sermon and a chalice lighting where people share their joys and sorrows and the Sunday offering.

How actively do you recruit?

We don’t recruit. Sadly our numbers are dwindling because we would never interfere with a person’s religious journey. But maybe now that you know more about us you might want to join us one Sunday! Service starts at 11:00, we UU’s believe in the power of sleep.

Mother’s Day Instructions To Follow

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Last year on Mother’s Day my gift was a junior sized t-shirt with the word Fame written across it. I loved that show growing up but I have to admire the shirt from the corner of my drawer because I cannot get it over my head. The year before, I was given a piece of do it yourself pottery with two orange paint splattered frogs hugging. So this year I went through the stack of ads in my paper to circle something I might like and there I discovered the problem.

Kohl’s is pushing perfume to the Taylor Swift mom fans out there. I don’t know how many tween mothers are among us but before you buy this I would rather you give that money to help them find food and shelter. There is only one right way to give me White Diamonds and it is not in a spray. Despite what Miss Dior, Marc Jacob’s Dot and Coach Poppy are trying to sell you, your mother is not an oversized girl child. I have no idea what Viva La Juicy La Fluer translates to but I doubt your Mama is going to do it and Ed Hardy’s Love Kills Slowly Life, Love, Luck perfume sounds like an ad promoting domestic violence. I love the color pink, but save Pink Frida for the gold-plated robots of the future.

If anyone in this family goes to Belk’s and buys me one of the signs for $14.99 called Laundry Rules or Bathroom Rules you will take over the housework entirely.

If you are planning to go to Stein Mart, save yourselves from purchasing the decorative measuring spoon set and since Dillards is responsible for making Mama’s newspaper smell like rotted flowers every Sunday please do not give them any more money for perfume samples.

Big Lots is suggesting reading glasses as an option but let’s just take all medically related or age inappropriate gifts off the table, shall we?

Kmart thinks a diamond accented bracelet with the word Mom written on it 80 times is a good idea. You know, in case I forgot about  delivering two enormous babies that camped out in my womb three weeks past their due dates. Listen, I love being a Mom but wearing cheap jewelry is not a way to keep me loving it.

Let me be blunt about the purchasing of a blender, toaster, soda maker, iron, sewing machine, classic stand mixer and their ilk. You will absolutely need to find another place to live immediately after opening.

If you are thinking about going to Hallmark and buying me a card with a slim red-headed woman wearing a sleeveless floral print dress throwing her child in to the air while the sun baths them in love, this is someone else’s mother, dear. Perhaps you are the one in need of a bracelet of reminders.

Also Home Depot has some lovely hanging plants, but unless you are going to water them as well, don’t buy it. Gifts for mothers should not need maintenance.

Target suggests a $500 iPad. But if this family has enough money for that, than please send me on an all-inclusive weekend trip somewhere with just my friends. I haven’t seen them since the baby showers.

Living Social is offering pole dancing lessons for mothers and while being a stripper is an emotionally healthy, well-paying, respectable profession, your mother has too much on her plate already.

Mama does not need any chocolate from Walgreens since I already have a stash in my glove compartment nor does she want a coffee mug from Rite Aid because I do not drink from anything Made In China. Just leave the plush teddy bear at CVS for the absentee fathers to buy but do pick up some AA batteries while your there.

If you want to get me something on Mother’s Day and let’s face it, you don’t have a choice. Then I would like you, your sister and your father to shower me with gratitude every single day for the next 365. I want the three of you to pick up after yourselves, brush off the sand and/or saw dust before you come in the house and bring your plates all the way in to the kitchen. I would like to feel appreciated for keeping your clothes cleaned, your bellies full and your lives in order. Trust me when I tell you that one day I will not be here and if I could call my Mama on the rings of Saturn and say just one thing, it would be, thank you.

Now everybody out! Mother’s Day is my day off.

What’s Your Biggest Weakness?

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My husband went on an intense job interview the other day where the interviewer asked him to describe his biggest weakness. Damn, I wish I had been there. Seriously, why ask the applicant what their biggest weakness is, shouldn’t they phone a family member for that one? My man walks across his own clothes to avoid depositing them in the laundry, discards things on the counter instead of the trashcan, uses the air for a napkin and to save time on his beauty regiment practices an all- in- one  shampoo/conditioner/bodywash/mouthwash/toothpaste/hairgel combination from the Dollar Tree in the shower. I mean he has some serious weaknesses and all he could come up with was that he is “high-strung”. I asked him for some examples of that weakness and he asked me to define high- strung.

Those types of questions really are a waste of time. If an employer asked me what my biggest weakness was I would say it is “loving so much”. I love my Subaru and eggs from the Farmers Market. I love going to the mountains. I love fountain coca cola with cherry syrup. I love zinnias in bloom and shopping for school supplies. I love the smell of coconut and I love being in the same place at the same time as an otter. I loved Paul Newman, rest his beautiful man soul and spending lazy Saturdays watching Cool Hand Luke on TBS. I once overheard Daddy accuse Mama of “just loving every damn body”.  I took people and raised it places and things.

In reality my biggest weakness is I am obnoxiously noncommittal. So much so that I rarely answer the phone because it might mean I have to do something. I avoid just about anything and anyone that tries to tie me down. RSVP’ing for a party sends me in to full panic and people who were “just in the neighborhood” can ring my doorbell to hell before I come out of hiding and answer it. I need plans and I need someone to make me follow through with those plans. Hopefully I can find a job one day that can embrace my weakness and if I ever do, I would love it with all my heart and soul.

At the end of my husband’s interview the guy asked him what he was most proud of in his life and he looked at me sweetly and said with ease “my family”. And that’s why folks, after saying “no way” to his disastrous proposal and calling the wedding off three times, I showed up late and drunk to our nuptials and married that filthy bastard, because I just loved him. So much.

Smoker Saves The Day!

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“According to a report in the New York Daily News, Henneberry had gone out for a cigarette in his backyard after Massachusetts Gov. Deval Patrick lifted the curfew for Boston residents only to discover the tarp on his winterized boat was askew.”

Did you hear that? A smoker is a hero. There are some judgmental jackasses out there in for a BIG surprise that smokers can do more than pollute good clean American air/soil or be a cancer statistic. However, some of the greatest people I have ever known smoked cigarettes at one time or another, myself included, so I already know that smokers are pretty fabulous. Ha, after years of a public campaign to morph smokers into public enemies, a man with a nicotine habit singlehandedly ended a national manhunt. Love it.

As far as damage, judgmental people create more havoc than smokers. They craft messages of moral outrage that paralyzes compassion in themselves and others. They sacrifice benevolence for ravenous superiority and flood the public domain with their own massive insecurities and elitist disconnect. My city recently banned smoking outside at bus stops for people who rely on public transportation. Citizens complained about the litter but enforcing litter laws was too difficult, so they enforced people’s personal habits instead. No doubt there is some one with a chemical concoction of human made fragrance on their largest organ right now complaining about smell. I hear ya.

Now wouldn’t the world be a better place if we legislated for “Smug Free Zones” instead.

Obviously, smoking is not a healthy activity but it is just one of the characteristics that makes up an individual. David Henneberry can now add hero to his list.

 

Speak Up!

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I took a Public Speaking course in college and somehow found myself silenced. My teacher would tell the class they could pick any topic their hearts desired, except for me. Since I was such a “passionate person”, she suggested I speak about “less controversial subjects” so she could grade me fairly on whether I understood the nuances of oral communication. I was a pretty dumb teenager, so I reluctantly agreed. For the informative speech I drove my Mustang in to the auto shop to teach everyone about basic car maintenance and for the ceremonial speech I wrote a eulogy for Cary Grant. On the day of the persuasive speeches, I was practically despondent. I was going to persuade other teenagers to drive twenty miles to recycle milk jugs they had washed and dried. When my speech concluded, most students were asleep. I gave the teacher my side eye on my way back to my desk and worked to stay awake myself as one student after the other tried to persuade me to listen to classical music or learn to knit. Until the last speech of the day, when a young woman walked up to the front of the classroom and set up a bulletin board with a picture of a dead baby. When she turned around with her handful of index cards, she busted out crying. She cried for a good long while until the teacher asked her if she needed to leave or reschedule. But she was a trooper, she wanted us to know about the dead baby she had so lovingly pasted on that poster board, how its lifeless body represented abortion and how Roe V Wade was making it possible for “selfish godless women everywhere” to murder babies. She often had to regain her composure during her speech as she struggled for words to define the terrible power of women’s freedom. Everyone was awake. At the front of the class was a little Barbie lookalike losing her precious mind and of course there was that picture of a dead baby. Most of the information she was blubbering were flat-out lies and much of the speech centered around seeking salvation so I am not positive  she actually persuaded anyone to distrust women or seek Jesus, but she definitely persuaded me to never let another person silence me again.

As a long time pro-woman advocate I have since seen that same stillborn baby in a myriad of inappropriate ways. I saw it spread over the side of a van in DC, pasted on placards at marches, covering brochures at a Pregnancy Crisis Center and worn on the lapels of picketers. The fact the picture does not represent abortion is mute to a crowd of emotional manipulators with a history of destructive propaganda and violence. But I do hold out hope that someone on the side of fetal rights will be humane enough someday to bury that poor woman’s baby, but maybe asking for compassion and honesty is just too controversal for that group.

Watch Your Step!

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If any of you have ever fallen while I was around and I laughed until I bent over double, crying with laughter desperately seeking a bathroom while you remained laid out on the ground moaning.

Then, do I have an apology for you!

I have seen some epic falls in my life. My true blue friend fell walking down the stairwell at middle school and literally clattered from one wall to the other like a pinball scoring points. My husband was running down the side of a busy highway once and lost his footing and rolled down into the ditch as if he were shot in a drive-by. And watching his arms and legs coming down Jockey’s Ridge at different velocities is one of my favorite married moments. My cousin did a pirouette when she fainted at an Edvard Munch exhibit and staff had to find me a paper bag to breath in. My precious children keep me laughing as they slip and slide through life and my best friend lives on the edge of stitches on even given day, so entertainment has been plentiful. Until yesterday, when I fell for the first time.

It was just a little blemish in the pavement that sent me whirling into the unchartered space in front of me. As for reasons I cannot explain, I gathered momentum and sharply swerved out to take the fall into the middle of the road, opposed to just staying there on the safety of the sidewalk. Hunched forward with my wallet under my arm I was in total disbelief that I could not stop myself.  When I finally could not clump my way in to oncoming traffic any further I let out a desperate scream for salvation before I landed face first into the asphalt knocking the air out of my lungs. Breathless, I envisioned a broken rib, crushed kneecap, fractured elbow, and eye socket injury since my prescription glasses were in pieces under my face. My preschooler came running out to the street and stood over me announcing “Wow, mommy fell”, “I mean she fell out and she is bleeding”, “Mommy, you are bleeding”. I wanted to comfort her about my impending death, but I stopped short and asked her to get out of the street to gather the things flying around the theater from mommy’s wallet.

Once I gathered my senses I sideways rolled to the edge of the street straight into some lucky person’s discarded cigarette. I sat on the curb for a while, watching my child chase dollar bills and called my husband to tell him that I might need to go to urgent care because I had fallen flat on my face. And he asked “Are you ok?” and I gently reminded him that I just said I might need to go to urgent care because I had fallen out flat and he inquired “Well, why didn’t you put your hands in front of you and stop the fall, do you think you had a stroke?”

I sat there for a minute pondering about whether I had suffered a stroke. But then I remembered that the heirloom fur-trimmed jacket with the three-quarter sleeves I was wearing is rather tight in the back and with the bulky turtleneck, I had severely limited range of motion. It also did not help matters that our city was experiencing 20 mph gusts. I assured him I did not think it was medically related and he chirped, “Whelp, now you have something to write about for your blog!”  I responded back to him that I had just survived a very traumatic event and in no way did I think this was feminist funny but since he did I will drive myself to the damn hospital…. click.

I hobbled to the car and looked in to the rearview mirror to pick the black of the street out of my face, lamenting the loss of my favorite glasses as well as my beloved pride. On my way home I left a message for my accident prone best friend and told her what happened, an hour later she texted me that this sounded like some sort of karmic retribution and insisted I give her the scoop. Come to think of it, it did feel like there were hundreds of hands on my back pushing me out into the great wide open of humiliation. Was this karma? Had my insensitivity over other’s falling come back to teach me a lesson? Had they simply worn a vintage jacket two sizes too small in a vain attempt to look retro-chic? If you have fallen in front of me, (or plan to in the future) then I am sorry, super skinned up bloody bruised body sorry, for the joy I gained from your pain. Really.

Now could you please stop pushing me down? Thanks so much.

 

Who Do You Like? Deux

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My favorite Republican called to plead with me to keep the blog “balanced” after my Limbaugh rant the other day. So in that spirit I would like to mention what bothers me about Liking Bill Maher. I was skeptical of him in the 90’s when he conducted a panel to ask women to lower their expectations of men because all men cared about was “p*ssy, anyway” and then the gossip spread about his ever-changing adult dancer girlfriends and Playboy parties and well it became obvious that Maher was living his truth, so I found my funny elsewhere.

Now, Bill Maher has wedged himself into liberal politics as an outspoken advocate for many of the same issues that I too support. He has refrained from worshipping the president and been an advocate for women in the recent GOP war against us. My husband even suggested that Maher and I might be libertarian-liberal soul mates after forwarding me several enjoyable snippets of political commentary from his show. I decided that it was time to give Maher my full attention so I watched a few episodes of Reel Time. There he was, still romanticicing his bachelorhood, still referring to women as “chicks”, still making women and banana innuendoes and still trying to save men from the shackles of family life. Sandwiched between the intelligent commentary on current affairs was the same angry humor of a drunken fraternity boy. One night after a segment on Limbaugh’s free speech rights, Maher’s own treatment of women was questioned and he appeared genuinely bewildered about how that connection could be made.

Yet, it was Bill Maher that blamed America’s problems on prioritizing feminine values and when discussing powerful or famous women he regularly reduces them to their vagina. He even suggested rape for a female commentator he doesn’t like from The View after the horrible sexual assault on Lara Logan. Much of his hostility goes towards conservative women and their children, but why should that be acceptable?  The paradox with Maher is that he defiantly questions cultural restrictions on masculinity, but cannot stop himself from holding women hostage to theirs. Logically, a man who has eloquently defended a woman’s right to choose should ethically be unable to conduct stand up comedy with feminist icon Rosie the Riverter as a back drop with the words “We Can Do Without It” (feminism) printed over her flexing arm. Is this what his audience defines as funny? Men hating women and feminism is dead jokes? Are there that many conservatives left out there enjoying the humor of Bill Maher? And I am over the “you just can’t take a joke” shtick from social justice offenders who thinly disguise their hate with humor. Maher’s problem is not his comedy, it’s his ingratiating duplicity.

The fact is that Maher and Limbaugh will always be compared to each other because they are both public figures that created a niche for themselves by making outrageous commentary in the left vs right political dichotomies. But I will continue to look for humor and social commentary elsewhere, because Maher’s truth is just too frighteningly close to Limbaugh’s for my liking.

Stand Up, North Carolina

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One of the worst days I have ever had as a North Carolina native was May 8, 2012. I must have lived in a bubble before that because I truly believed that the random anti-intellectual bumper sticker, the certifiable brickyard preacher on campus and the few illogical rants in the newspaper were just the ramblings of our State’s crazy cousins. I never thought their opinions would create a consensus of absolutely anything central to our State’s well being. But that night when the results came in to amend our State’s constitution to discriminate against our fellow citizens, I was thunderstruck.

For days afterwards I scanned the faces of people for their culpability and could not find it in a part of the State that overwhelmingly voted against it. So I went online to gauge the Nation’s opinion of what had happened that day, and was accosted with Southern condemnation. Our State’s intellect, tourism industry, economic progressiveness, faith, and significance were under attack. Proving that other States obviously have their share of crazy cousins as well, I shut the matter down for a while so I could formulate a response to my children before they have to read about our State’s marriage discrimination amendment in their history books.

Although that historic vote will forever mar our reputation as a fair-minded State and adversely affect economic potential and leadership, the numbers on that fateful day were not representative to our State’s voting populace. Voter turnout that day was only 34.66% of registered voters. This amendment was purposely placed in a primary for an incumbent president because of its historically low voter turn out. It was a bigoted vote but only a small part of our citizens participated in it.

Registered Voters: 6,296,759

Voters That Casted Ballots: 2,182,675

For The Discrimination: 1,317,178

Against The Discrimination: 840,802

Voters did not vote on amendment: 24,695

Our State’s motto Esse quam videri (To be, rather than to seem) comes from a poem by Cicero on friendship. Translated it means:

“Fewer possess virtue, than those who wish us to believe that they possess it.” 

The few that voted to discriminate used various Christian scriptures to support their reasoning, just the same as other civil rights violators have throughout American history. As generational North Carolinians, our family easily recognizes discrimination perhaps because we most likely came over on the bottom of the Mayflower. But ours is also an unwavering devotion to this great State and for as long as we live, we will continue to cultivate its goodness. Besides North Carolina’s spotless sunrises and plush forestry, there are less scenic affairs to discuss.  For instance, our State has voted in officials that are embarrassing us, we are neglecting our environment despite our economic dependence on it and we are shamefully lounging at the bottom of educating our citizens. We have been mortally wounded by public apathy on matters that directly affect our State’s viability. No amount of faith is going to save us if we don’t get out of our respective bubbles and stand up as a community united, because if our humanity is bankrupt, so be our State.

 

Letter To My Pregnant Sister

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On the night you were born I got to stay up late with Granny Ri and watch the ABC 9:00 movie. Wahoo! After thirteen years of being an only child, Mama gave us you. You were not a small baby. You preferred the companionship of others. You cried a lot unless I let you hold my finger and then you slept peacefully. Which wasn’t often. When your hair grew longer I would match your bows to your outfits on your insistence and comb out two perfectly parted pigtails. You were always the cutest kid anywhere but not often the best behaved. We loved you dearly.

Now that it is your turn to bring a baby to us. I must warn you that being pregnant is going to bring you unsolicited advice dating from the discovery of the New World all the way to present day obsession with self-perfection and documentation. Trust yourself to know what to take and what to leave behind. And always listen to your big sister.

One woman will assure you that labor is similar to menstrual cramps. Remember there are people who equate superiority with an ability to withstand pain. They are wrong. Don’t be afraid of pain. Our mother died. We know pain.

There will be women who loved being pregnant. I was lucky to have two fairly uncomplicated pregnancies and I hated them both. Do not compete with pregnancy nostalgia, it does not mean they love their children more than you. No one loves your children more than you.

There will be a woman who jogged five miles every day until the baby was born. Wow. Sometimes they might be the same ones who refer to pregnancy as a form of fatness. If a woman uses this adjective to describe her womb, do not internalize their self-hatred. You are accomplishing the most miraculous event in humankind. Respect your body’s amazingness.

You may decide to find out the sex of your child but remember you are not finding out their personality. Do not let others assign socially constructed gender roles to your baby. Babies should never have their uniqueness oppressed by those who cannot recognize its gift.

Many women will assure you that dope, deli meat, cigarettes, weight, caffeine, canned tuna, unpasteurized milk and cleaning products had no affect on their health or their babies. In reality they have no idea if that is true, they just want some relief from the mother  guilt that now accompanies them throughout every day. You will be one of these women too. Let your instinct guide you on matters of health.

Many doctors will assure you that prescription drugs, elective tests and medical procedures will not adversely affect your health or that of your baby. Do not surrender your common sense or compassion to anyone. I repeat, no one loves your child more than you do. It is your job now to become informed. It will take a lot of research and preparation to have a healthy pregnancy and become a parent. Surrender to the work.

And lastly, be cautious of the trend of exposing yourself and your baby to relentless social networking documentation. A pregnancy is to feed an insatiable needy baby, not feed an insatiable needy ego. Stay in the present moment. Be careful allowing access to your family’s intimacy to others. Your baby has a right to grow up in privacy. They should not have to explain an awkward trail of pictures on the internet to Heads of State. Protect your baby from life’s critics as long as you possible can.

Besides most of the love that little F or S will need to grow up is right there with you or on their way. We are here for you. You are just as dearly loved today as the day you came home.

I can hardly wait to hold out my finger to your precious baby. Love you always, Runt.

 

 

Say It Behind My Back, Please

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I recently rekindled a friendship with a former colleague. It was great to see her again. She still owned the same sweet-tempered dog and dry sense of humor. A few nights ago she invited the family and I over to take a tour of her new home. While we there she showed us her wedding album. She was a lovely bride and I wish that I could’ve been there to share in the festivities with her. While looking over the pictures of her family and friends she mentioned that one of the women reminded her a great deal of me. Flattered, I briefly considered how often it is that the same kinds of people recycle back into our lives over a lifetime. Then she added, “Yea, she reminds me of you, she is really funny and kind of loud and very opinionated. But then she just goes too far. It can get pretty obnoxious. Most of my friends don’t like her but I still do.”

Well now. I guess I wasn’t invited to the wedding because having two jerks there would have short-circuited the hater brigade. She continued to share stories about her special day but I didn’t hear another damn word of it. All I could think about was how many other people must see me in this way! I would like to say that I was surprised, but I have witnessed faces twist in utter revulsion over something I’ve said. If the person I am talking to does not respond in ways I recognize, for instance they just stare blankly, I will often reach higher, to force them to laugh or agree with me. I do it so much around two women in my neighborhood they actually keep a physical distance from me when I talk, as if they think my arms are going to fly off my body during one of my (completely true) animated stories. I am also opinionated. One night after a few drinks with friends an argument ensued over whether Madonna is a feminist and I ended up walking two miles home at 2am because they did not agree with my definition of an opportunist.

So I wonder how many other people have issues with their friends but just keep much quieter about it than my friend clearly knows how to. I love my friends but they have done some wacky things over the years and I am pretty sure they know I have talked about it behind their backs.

Do you care if someone is talking about you behind your back? I don’t, as long as you leave it there.