HP || SS Hops || Flower.

(no subject)

My goodness, this last month. My brain doesn't even know what to do.

It's not all bad, it's just a lot. I got a bunch of young adults (in my religion: adults ages 18-35) from Tom's senior youth years (fall 2005-summer 2009) together to surround his sister--just out of her first year of college--in love and distraction the night of the memorial service. She loved my old-man-pug-dog Mugz. We watched the end of the Bruins game on the projector, ordered pizza, watched Jumanji, joked around. My friend Steven, a junior in college, lost his brother suddenly (heart attack) 10 months ago; he said that it was good to have Taryn out of the house and with people her age because otherwise she would have ended up like him, in a house full of relatives with only one common conversational piece: a dead sibling. Her mother was grateful that Taryn had a place to go.

Not sure how I made it through the calling hours and the memorial service but, with the help of my other dear-heart friends from the congregation, I did.

I was down to do a Reproductive Justice service this Sunday with a sermon covering the history of our comprehensive sex-ed programme ("Our Whole Lives"), its predecessor ("About Your Sexuality"), the need for comprehensive sed-ed in the world but especially now in our country, and the liberal religious voice opposite the (so often outspoken) Religious Right on reproductive justice issues: abortion, the definition of rape, legislation, Planned Parenthood funding, access to birth-control, the ability to plan for children in one's life, intersectionality of gender/class/race. I even sent out question surveys to participants and facilitators of the programmes through the years and to parents of participants. Quite the undertaking. Grief slowed me down considerably.

I sent an email to my senior minister, Rev Carol, just with how I was doing; I had previously avoided her in any sort of pastoral care environment, talking to her only about what I was doing with the teenagers of the congregation or the gathering of the young adults. She saw right through my email to how utterly fried I was. She decided to take this Sunday's service to preach on "Joy"--which we all need--and to let me do the Reproductive Justice service another time, when I am less emotionally/physically stretched and have more (stable) time to work on something in which I can really take pride.

What really got to me from her email, and allowed me to accept the offer without guilt, was one line:

The amount of ministry that you have done in the past 10 days has been extraordinary, my dear. As much as a "professional" would have done, so I really think you need a break.

(I had mentioned that I had no idea how she had managed to do the service for one of the congregants she had helped raised, or done all that she had done, and how I was certainly not as practised in it all but also feared I wasn't as strong.)

So this Sunday I get to go to my congregation early and be fed breakfast as a "Thank you to Religious Education Volunteers" event and then I get to listen to a service on Joy. I think that is absolutely what I need.

Ah! I also went with my mother to FireWoman's house yesterday for a first lesson on sweatlodging with the Four Winds Free Cherokee clan. I've been friends with FireWoman for a few years now--we share ridiculous vampire novels and I spent hours with her dorkily colouring in colouring book pages at Ferry Beach--but it took me a while to express my real interest in coming. It's often the tradition, anyway, for students and teachers to play a sort of 'cat and mouse' game to prove dedication; usually it's on the part of the teacher, but apparently I did it on my own, hah. Anyway, most of the lesson was review for me (I've attended a number of different lessons and had long conversations with FireWoman before), but it was a great thing to attend. With my beliefs in phenology, ecology, and stardust, perhaps the Rainbow Road of my spiritual beliefs contains a goodly amount of the Red Path.

My brother came home. Especially after Tom's death and spending so much time around his grieving sister, it utterly filled my heart to have my brother home again in all his Dweebish glory. He also proved his name his first day back: we were hanging out for a few hours between sweatlodging lesson and a volunteers' dinner in the evening; Mum and I told him what we'd be doing and what Da would be doing [his weekly men's team meeting]; I got a call while at the dinner with Dweeb saying, "Hey, where is everybody? Ben and I got caught up playing games and he would have been late to work if someone didn't drive him, so I said one of you guys would, but no one was here, so I had to drive him." He's currently not on the car insurance contract so he shouldn't really be driving, but it's about 7 minutes to where he and Ben had to be. It's more that he managed to game too much and risk Ben (the best-friend-and-neighbour) being late to his first night on the job and completely failed to hear my mother and I while we were telling him what was up, despite his usual, "Yeah yeah, okay, that makes sense." The house could fall down, burn up, and sink into a swamp and he wouldn't notice if he were playing one of his games. :P That is why he is Dweeb, and despite the occasional frustration it causes, much of why I love him.

The volunteer dinner was lovely. It was for the coffeehouse a man from my congregation runs; I've been volunteering whenever I'm around since I was in high school (usually doing raffle tickets and then clean-up during intermission). We ate where we usually do--Sichuan--because we love it and it has great spicy food. It was nice to feel like an adult in my own right, too, rather than just the unicorn-token-young-adult (most religions find it difficult to "keep" young adults after they graduate; they usually come back once they've had ickle sprogs of their own). I used to be "oh that's Gerri's daughter" ("wait, the one that never talks? How'd that happen?" "We don't know"). Now not only am I my own person, I'm actually on more committees than my mother and people will occasionally say, "Oh, is she Kiwi's mother?!" All part of growing up, I suppose, but it's nice to have conversations I can really join in and feel part of rather than having this irksome feeling of being young and/or a token presence.

That's how I am now, then, I guess. Sorry for how incoherent it is; I did warn about my brain. (: (It's also 93ºF/33.9ºC, which means hotter in my little upstairs cupboard of a room, and that is not at all conducive to coherent thought when it comes to this ickle Kiwilark.)

To end, I have a grammar joke:

A comma splice walks into a bar, it has a drink and then leaves.

A question mark walks into a bar?

Two quotation marks “Walk into” a bar.

A gerund and an infinitive walk into a bar, drinking to drink.

The bar was walked into by a passive voice.

Three intransitive verbs walk into a bar. They sit. They drink. They leave.

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
TV || Xena || Laughter.

(no subject)

I've stopped treating my hip so gingerly since the doctor's appointment and it's been going pretty well.

Except that I squeak. A lot. My roommates and people I walked with could hear it. My parents, who couldn't hear it before I left, laughed and laughed when I showed them. Mum even put the phone up to my hip to show a church friend. Dad said it sounds as though there's a baby bird in my leg.

Dear Lady Luck,

On the rare occasions that I've wished for a chick in my pants, I can assure you this wasn't what I meant. There must have been some sort of mix up with delivery . Thank you for trying, I suppose.

Kiwi the Tin Lesbian

P.S. I now have one hip that squeaks and one that pops. You just wanted me to be Pipsqueak and Pop, didn't you?

Back from the con; napped but still knackered. Goodnight!

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
HP || McMin || Braided concern.

(no subject)

Please be something simple and easy to fix.
PLEASE be something simple and easy to fix.
Please be something simple and easy to fix.
Please be something simple and easy to fix.
Please be something simple and easy to fix.

Doctor's appointment today at 4 in Boston. I'm about to leave the Providence house to head back to my home town; my parents are coming with me.

I can't believe I used to go through one of these appointments at least once a year when I was a teenager. How did I do that? It's so effed up.

(Your comments were all wonderful and I really appreciated each one. I'm sorry I didn't get around to responding to each yet; I fell back into a hibernation.)

PLEASE let it be something simple and easy to fix.

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
HP || Witchly sign.

(no subject)

This is one of the posts I was mentioning when I said there would be a non-personal post or two from me soon. I’ve had “Finish reading Hoggywarty ‘12” on my To Do List for far too long, and right beneath it was “Rec Hoggywarty ‘12”. Here I am to do just that.

    My Hoggywarty Recs:

    I rec’d ‘Always’ and 'A Year To Forget' before (though I am including the latter in the list because it was already here before I made a post just for it). Here are my other (many) recs. I realise that each rec might hold more power if I limited myself, but I’ll admit I’m not one who does that with my hobbies, and I’m not one to limit my expressions of enjoyment when I appreciate something (or perhaps you may have noticed that in my comments). With that in mind, here are my recs:

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    There we go. It was a fantastic fest, as always, and I loved reading all the stories. I still haven't read a good number from '11, so let's see if I get to those before the next decade...

    [Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
  • Current Mood
    hungry Hungry.
HP || McMin || Braided concern.

(no subject)

I am still not really back. I just didn't want anyone to worry about anything extra terrible, given I'm a Masshole (I'm from Massachusets and am currently in MA; Boston is my old and sometimes-current stomping ground, when I'm more up for stomping than I am these days).

I'm fine. I didn't make it into Boston for any activism (or activity at any length) despite being invited. I avoided the news for much of the afternoon and evening because I knew I wasn't stable enough for it; I asked questions of my friends bit by bit, in little pieces I could handle. Spent the evening throwing a surprise birthday party for a dear friend and we all stuck together. I think we needed it. Came home and was finally able to look it all up myself, including pictures. I remember walking that part of Boylston many times from Gay Pride Parades and other Boston days...

I've heard from almost all of my friends, who are safe and either made it out of the city, were safe where they live/work, or found some other safe place to be, occasionally with strangers. Rev. Sunflower (the associate minister I like too much) doesn't have Facebook so I don't know, but I think Rev. Caroller (the senior minister) would have emailed us if there was anything to worry about. Rev. Sunflower lives less than 3 miles from where the bombs went off.

I wish I could make it into Boston tomorrow evening for the Arlington Street Church vigil (that's sort of my adoptive Boston church) but it's too tiring and expensive. Boston is a strong city of resilient people--we're a bunch of hardasses--and it's touching to read about all the "helpers", as Fred Rogers and his mother would say.

But it's still fucked. I cry for a world in which any people feel the need or drive to call out in such away, let alone so many in recent history. I feel plenty bruised and broken and not-whole and angry at a boatload of shit in this world almost completely driven by my own species and often race, but I am solidly standing on the side of love. It's the only place I'm ever going to be, whether I'm on my own two feet or on crutches or with a cane or on wheels or with a sodding prosthetic. And it doesn't make me a patriot despite the day of the year; it's not about My Country or My People, it's about All People and All Countries and this world that wasn't born with property lines.

Blood on Boylston. Just...damn it, I am sick of this shit. Sick of this world, sometimes, and this invasive species of which I am a member. Sometimes the good can shine through for me, the aftermath of loving kindness and support and outreach; today that doesn't seem to be the case.

But I'm okay, in the way that I'm always okay, so there isn't need to worry about that. I'm home safe with my grumbling dog. There may be two or so more not-really-personal posts from me soon and I've been able to comment a bit more lately than I have in a while, but I'm still not back back. Keep well, my dear ones; you all are in my thoughts.

(Some of this may not be as PC as I often strive to be; I apologise if I offend. Additionally, any mention of prosthesis comes from my own fears and is not a reference to the Boston Marathon or events of the day.)

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
  • Current Music
HP || Minerva || Time stood still.

(no subject)

Life: a lot; Kiwi: nope

Back when I even the score a bit, or something.

I sincerely hope none of you were stabbed 23 times, but if you were, I will eat salad in your honour.

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
  • Current Music
Lips || Purple.

(no subject)

I'm very glad I signed up for Misti-Con. I just called my orthopaedic surgeon and set up my "5-year" hip replacement appointment for May 6th.

I don't know if I've ever stated it in my journal itself, but I've long had the tradition of getting a "treat" after any medical thing I have to put up with. When I was growing up and had to take a deep shot to alternate thighs once a month from 7 to 12, I used to get little things like pencils or any fun toys I wanted. When I had to take the biannual trips to the Children's Hospital for IVs, blood-work, bone-scans and the like, I would get something bigger (especially since those frightened me more). At this point my most "famous" post-medical treat is the Minerva McGonagall hat, which was delivered to me at Rowe a month after my hip replacement, came with me to England and DiaCon, got me a camp job at Rowe, came to Orlando, and has decorated every place I have lived.

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Today I'm trying to distract myself from everything. It's almost working.

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
  • Current Mood
    scared Scared.
HP || Sibyl || Hug everyone else.


I was hopeful when I did more research on my external hard drive (a WD passport) and found that the "This folder is empty" problem was reasonably common. My Da and I confirmed that the hard drive itself is fine when it worked well on his machine.

Just had the time now--after a long meeting with the senior youth and then dinner with my parents--to sit down with my laptop and the WD passport. Tried a cmd command I found online that everyone said worked and lo'n'behold, it did! I can now access the files on my hard drive.

So at least I have back-up. Now the virus on my desktop is only an annoyance; I won't really lose anything if I can't boot up off a mem-stick and get things off it (though I don't see why that wouldn't work). Wiping it clean will be no big deal either. I'd intended to at some point anyway, in fact, given that it's my brother's old computer and there's still some stuff left over from him.

All I can say is PHEWWWWWW.

The meeting today went well, too. Working with the senior youth on their service for Sunday. I feel bad for how involved I was, but at the moment we don't have anyone in specific youth leadership positions to take it over. Hopefully Sunday will go all right! I've got to print something tomorrow night during the coffee house and do lots of copying, folding, and slipping the sheets into the orders or service. Much of this work would ideally be senior youth work but we only had a month to create the whole service and they don't have real experience with it, so I was happy to help. Next time there will be more set-up weeks and they can do more.

Ahhhh the feeling of relief. Sorry I'm so behind on LJ! I've been more into reading books lately, it seems. I'll try to be back soon, especially as I'm working through all my new load of applications.

[Crossposted from dreamwidth.]
  • Current Mood
    relieved Relieved.