This has happened twice (count them…twice) this week. I wake up about 6-ish, glance at the clock, think about how wonderful it is that I still get to sleep for 30 more minutes, and go back to sleep and start dreaming.

Forty minuets later? I wake up, widely and suddenly, to realize that the most obnoxious repetitive noise in the world has not occurred. I check the obnoxious-noise-producing-machine, only to find that it is off. Off. When I am more than positive that I specifically turned it on the night before.

Which leads me to believe that, apparently, I have discovered a new skill. Who knows what it will lead to, what great, productive tasks I will soon be accomplishing in my sleep? I might even save the world.

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This has happened twice (count them…twice) this week. I wake up about 6-ish, glance at the clock, think about how wonderful it is that I still get to sleep for 30 more minutes, and go back to sleep and start dreaming.

Forty minuets later? I wake up, widely and suddenly, to realize that the most obnoxious repetitive noise in the world has not occurred. I check the obnoxious-noise-producing-machine, only to find that it is off. Off. When I am more than positive that I specifically turned it on the night before.

Which leads me to believe that, apparently, I have discovered a new skill. Who knows what it will lead to, what great, productive tasks I will soon be accomplishing in my sleep? I might even save the world.

…try this. Move your cursor over the white field. Click some of the circles at the bottom to make it change.

Tonight, I had an experience I hope to never have again.

I inhaled a cobweb. And yes, they’re just as hard to get unstuck from something wet.

Right. Now I know why they tell you to rinse it before you use it again when it hasn’t been out in a while.

Yuck.

…about men who sit in green silk rooms and make decisions that drastically effect other folks’ lives. But it wasn’t where I was at then.

…but instead I’m sitting here crying. Finally. I think I’ve wanted to cry most of today.

The Episcopal Church finally made their choice–they decided to (functionally) reject Windsor and antagonize the situation in the process with their choice of Presiding Bishop.

There are a lot of options for a church like mine. I don’t have a strong belief that it will take one of the ones that would make it ok to stay where I am, but I don’t know yet.

So I grieve. I grieve for the hearts and souls of the people who make these decisions, for the ones who don’t know what they’re flouting, or who flout it in the name of truth, love, and justice. I grieve for what their choices say about God, who He is and how He acts. Mostly, though, I grieve selfishly. I grieve for the fact that, because they made this decision, I and many of those I love face loss. I don’t yet know for sure what I’m going to do. No matter what I do, though, I lose. If I stay at Blessed Sac, I lose those who choose to leave. If I leave, I lose those who choose to stay, and probably many of the others who choose to leave as I can’t imagine we’ll all go to the same place. More than that, I lose something more abstract, something harder to define. I lose through the experience of this, through having to make this sort of choice.

I think that’s what I hate the most, overall. This should not be. It just shouldn’t. It’s wrong on so many levels that I don’t even know where to start. I don’t even know where to start grieving. God’s children should not have to face choices like this because those who claim to be His children should not be making the choices being made. So it is wrong, on a level bigger than the decisions made at General Convention. It’s wrong on a cosmic, how-the-world-works level.

I also hate the way these decisions were being made. If I decide that I could abide with the decisions, this would be another obstacle. It’s like the ECUSA is run by a bunch of teenagers, dead set on making flagrant decisions that will set the rest of the Anglican Communion ablaze. I keep thinking about it this way: If I had a major moral disagreement with my boss, and we were in the process of trying to decide if we could still work together or if one of us had to leave, I would hope that I would not make any decisions that I knew would antagonize the issue before we decided. I might put some off, but I would hope that I would not act as they have–deliberately making choices they’ve been asked not to make, and not waiting until they knew if reconciliation was possible before throwing more wood on the fire.

So I don’t know. I don’t think I can stay, but I don’t know that I have what it takes to take a stand and go, either. I know, I have some time. But Blessed Sacrament means so much to me. It came along when I mostly felt betrayed by and therefore suspicious of Church and churches, and it snuck up behind those defenses and touched me deeply. To leave is like leaving a home, maybe one of the truest homes I’ve ever had. But it seems that my home may be leaving me. Once again, that should not be.

Attila the Huntington

12 June 2006

Whoever thought that “Huntington” was a good example of a way to combine letters in the English language ought to be shot. Or ought to be made to listen to people pronouncing the word over and over again. Try it now. Say it out loud. What do you hear? You sound like you’re learning bad Chinese, or like you’re a kid faking Chinese at the Chinese restaurant thinking you’re all that. You don’t sound like you’re speaking English.

Ok, I’ll give you one…it does sound good with an English accent. Since we do not speak with English accents here in America, however, it’s a word that ought to be banned. Or changed.

In that spirit, I offer you the best and worst letters to replace the first “t” in “Huntington”.

Best: D, F, J, L, M, N, R, S, Y, and my personal favorite–Z

Worst: C, G, H, K, Q, X

And vowels? They’re completely out of the question.

So pick your poison, ladies and gents, and don’t get stuck sounding like a Chinese organ grinder’s chattering monkey again.