I lead a pretty charmed life for a homosexual. You’d think it would be all separate water fountains, bar raids, and Eminem-led assaults on my character, but as a resident of a liberal state who has surrounded herself with a buffer of likeminded individuals her whole life, I have been largely untouched by discrimination. Even my stint in Middle America happened to coincide with Iowa’s legalization of same-sex marriage and my affiliation with a program called AmeriCorps that was shockingly gayer than a women’s rugby team.
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Arizona Cheers and Jeers
I have been going to Arizona for rugby at least once a year since I was a freshman in college. While these trips often include an epic party with some of my favorite desert dwellers, it takes a lot of hugs and alcohol to negate the misery of a rugby game played at high noon in hundred degree weather and twelve hours of cumulative driving across a landscape that is best described as “beige”. Couple this with my general feelings of rage toward the “Zonies” who migrate to San Diego in droves starting in June to crowd my beaches and drive poorly around my neighborhood until well into September, and you can see why heading in an eastward direction on the I-8 past Mission Valley is something I turn my nose up at like an elderly La Jolla home owner.
Linens N’ Things of Little Importance
Just when I thought my aversion to the holiday season had become more of a tradition or a habit than an actual reaction to the two month period when Santa and his gaudy merriment barf all over the retail world, I did something to cement my Scrooge stance for 2009.
I put linens on my Christmas list.
The Office Handbook: A Guide for the Reluctant Corporate Employee
Introduction
This is for the Social Science and Liberal Arts majors. Anthropology, Political Science, Comparative Literature, Communications, Ethnic Studies – if you have a piece of paper announcing the completion of a degree that uses any combination of these words, I am writing this for you.
It’s a Boy!
I would like to introduce all of you to my child, Rugby. I love Rugby so much, and not in the way you love your favorite movie, or a treasured heirloom. My love for Rugby is instinctual, a fact of life, a matter of my being, like freckles or scoliosis. This love is not a choice, and my resulting commitment is no longer a manifestation of this choice; it is a sensation on my skin, a dull ache in my muscles, a duty, an inevitability, a gift.
“[Unnamed Online Registration Company], this is Marea…”
I know that this may come as a shock to all my fans out there, but contrary to what Carrie Bradshaw of Sex and the City might have you believe, writing occasional, self-absorbed musings about whatever highly personal topic happens to pop into my idle mind each week is not as lucrative an activity as one would hope.
Blogging About Harry Potter: A New Low?
A quick disclaimer/confession:
I have not read any of the Harry Potter books, nor have I seen all of the movies. I know that to a die-hard Harry Potter fan, this makes me absolutely unqualified to make any commentary whatsoever about the blessed work of JK Rowling and the subsequent butchering and/or enhancement of her work by various movie directors (depending on which camp you’re from). And after Chowder yelled at me the other night when my criticism of Quidditch as a sport was based on a slight misunderstanding of the rules, something I would have known, “HAD I DONE SOME RESEARCH!”, I am feeling a little timid about sharing any opinions in the general realm of wizardry at the moment.
My Latest Existential Crisis
Today I met with Jake, an “Associate Planner” from a wealth management company who gave a presentation on smart financial planning at Active a few weeks ago. Since the words “planning” and “smart” more often pertain to my successful procurement of a sober driver for the evening than my finances, I forgave Jake the motivational quotes and marathon metaphors in his Power Point and took him up on his free employee consultation.
Man I’m Judgmental: Part II
It’s been a really long time since I’ve written about one of my stances. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had plenty of unnecessarily bitter opinions about life’s trivial annoyances since blogging about the mutual disappointment Jenny and I felt when America selected Taylor Hicks as its Idol (not that we were wrong; does anyone even remember Uncle Taylor and the way he embarrassed the family by dancing on TV anymore?), but I haven’t had the motivation to put any of them down on paper until now. Lucky for you all, I’ve been back in California for just under two weeks and I’ve already become so irritated by the driving situation here that I’m ready to boldly publish my latest stance:
The cell phone law in California is fucking ridiculous.
Can I get an Amen?
I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the controversy over Obama inviting the evangelical pastor Rick Warren to deliver the invocation prayer at his inauguration in January. At first I sort of scoffed at all the political gays who were up in arms about Obama’s decision to include someone so openly hostile toward the homos on this important day. I mean, give the poor man a break – there are too many deeply divisive issues in today’s political landscape to find a speaker who wouldn’t be considered offensive to SOMEONE. He can’t have Wayne Brady lead the prayer for Christ’s sake. And sure, Warren has made statements lumping gays in with child molesters and sibling fuckers, but who hasn’t? As the passage of Proposition 8 reminded us all back in November, there are plenty of people in even the most liberal of states who find us undeserving when it comes to basic human rights because of our deviant lifestyle. Obama gave us a subtle show of support during his first speech as president-elect, let him court the other side in the name of political compromise this time around. Let’s swallow our pride and stand behind him with the hope that bowing our heads for a prayer from a homophobe will buy us some legislation from Washington that will significantly advance our cause – obviously we’re not doing so hot on our own.
Occupation: Cubicle Monkey 