Lazy Day Stream of Consciousness

This is pretty rare for me. I feel like blogging, but I have no particular topic in mind. Yet, I'm just going to keep typing until something starts to flow. Heh. The word 'flow,' always makes me think of periods. Periods, and Progressive insurance. Either way, not a pleasant association...

HAHAHAHAHA! But also, kind of depressing if you think about it too much.

So, it's Easter today. I suppose I could write something Easter-y. But I did that last year. Or was it the year before? Except that the only festive activities I've accomplished today entail eating the Robins Egg-shaped Whoppers I bought myself, and the mini-Cadbury Eggs my mom hid around my apartment whilst she was visiting me. (Thereby re-creating my dad's tradition of hiding treats around the house for her to find when he goes away on long trips). I don't think watching massive amounts of Buffy and lazing around in bed all day is particularly reminiscent of the Resurrection or pagan fertility symbols of rabbits and eggs. I definitely enjoyed it though!

"Grape nuts are neither grapes nor nuts."

I suppose I could branch out and write about my Passover experience last Tuesday. Seder dinner is always (and by always, I mean both times I've gone), a treat. Fascinating cultural ritual (which involves a lot of interactive drinking of wine, which we all know is right up my alley.) It's also a fun fish-out-of-water experience for a former Mormon-turned-agnostic to participate in a Jewish holiday extravaganza. I also got to hear an older Jewish lady say, "this brisket is like buttah," thusly invoking childhood memories of Mike Meyers in drag on SNL. But for realsies, the brisket really did taste like buttah. Kudos to my sister-in-law's stepmother on a fantastic meal!

This cake better be worth it...

I could also use this platform to call out my fella for texting me a picture of cake at three in the morning.  AND for refusing to give me any of said cake. Not cool, friend-o. Our relationship is officially on the rocks. (Sidebar, he just now texted me saying that if I was nice, he would bring me a piece. Apparently being nice means either giving him a back massage and/or buying him new underwear. Worth it?) (Second sidebar, he also texted me not to blog about that particular negotiation because it makes it seem like he uses "food for clothing like a hobo with magic." And then I called him a ninny. I'm pretty sure he'll never date another writer ever again.) What a couple of weirdos.

Things also accomplished today:

1. Multiple hours spent on reading my new favorite blog, Brittany Herself. Thank you Kelly Bean for introducing me to Brittany. If I lived in Ohio, had three kids, and a flair for plus-sized fashion, Brittany is who I would want to be when I grow up (even though she's only like five years older than me).

My mom and I are terrible influences on each other when it comes to shopping.

Aaaand... that's about it. I fully intended to clean my apartment today. I'm surrounded by discarded DSW shoeboxes, yogurt cups, and various items of clothing flung carelessly about my room. But some days I'm in the mood to clean like some kind of germaphobic demon (still in Buffy mode), and other days I'm totally happy to just wallow in filth. But at least I completed a blog! Even if it was completely incoherent and babbly, just like me!

Why My Mom Is Awesome

I originally posted this as a Facebook note (the second prototype to Sporadic Sporkitudes following the decline of my many ranting Myspace blogs) on October 25th, 2008, just before the vote on Prop 8. It is just as relevant over four years later as it was back then. 

My mom is down in Pasadena for a short visit. Naturally we're spending quality time together in our PJs watching the Notebook and Beaches, and eating whole wheat blueberry pancakes. We're sitting side by side on the couch with our phones out, scrolling down our respective Facebook pages. While mine is practically bleeding with all the variations of the red equality symbol, hers is covered in anti-gay outcries. My mom, like me, worries too much about offending people with her opinion, but she is allowing me to re-post the following: 

"I just want to share how incredibly proud I am of my mother. She wrote the following response to a friend who was sending Yes on 8 e-mail chains out. As a heterosexual, usually conservative, white, middle-class woman with five children who's been happily married for over thirty years, this is the last person you would expect to see the light about this incredibly important issue. But she stood up for what she believes and that proves to me that people's minds can change.

'I know this is a huge issue for you, and I respect that. Your answer was carefully thought out and shows how much you care about this. There was a time when I thought the same way. In fact, I thought the worst thing that could happen to our family would be to find out that one of our children was gay. (That didn't happen). It is also a huge issue for me. Enough that I left a church I loved my whole life over this as one of the key issues.

I'm sure this is not the case with you, but many people have a distorted view of gays. They only see the extreme and think that's how the majority of them are. Most of them live in our neighborhoods, work around us, and you would never even know they are gay. Many are intensely spiritual people with extremely strong moral values. Many are still Christian, while others have been completely disowned by their churches and family causing tremendous heartbreak. Many Christians don't know the Bible well enough to know that Christ never spoke a word about the subject. Paul did, but then he never even met Christ except as a vision on the road to Damascus long after Christ was dead. It is talked about in the Old Testament along with several other outdated laws that don't apply and are not practiced in this era. The form of homosexuality talked about in the Old Testament is really pedophilia. That is certainly not acceptable in this day either! Some people assume that all gays and lesbians are pedophiles which is absolutely not true. This is not directed at you, but I just get frustrated with the ignorance and superiority some people feel over their way being the only right way. There was a time when good Christian people believed in the the right to own slaves using the Bible as their support. I feel like this falls into that category, and hopefully some day will be looked on the same. To deny them this right is essentially saying they are not as good as the rest of us, and I believe that not to be true.

It was nice to get to express my opinion. I haven't been able to do that before over this particular issue. We can respect our right to differ. I should have just let the email slide, but I felt I had been silent on the issues long enough. To say nothing would be like saying I agreed with it.

Life would be pretty dull if we all agreed on everything. You know how much I care about you, and hope you know none of this was directed at you personally. I just needed to vent as did you apparently!'-Cathy"

Yeah... my mom is cooler than your mom. Don't hate.

Plenty of Awkward

The past few weeks have been filled with awkwardness of the most acute variety. Mainly from two sources which I will now proceed to break down like a late 80s neon-clad subway busker on a cardboard dance floor:

PART ONE: Here fishy fishy!

I have mentioned before that I have twice dipped my toe into the proverbial ocean of online dating via Plentyoffish.com. First, I just looked around, was disappointed in the kind of menfolk that were available, and ran away screaming. The second time, I gave it some more thought and actually tried to fill out a profile. This just made me depressed and caused hours of tipsy self-analysis. Since then I hadn't really given plenty o' fish another though. My life is complicated and stressful enough without adding some guy's baggage to it.

My own baggage is already full enough.

But a few weeks ago I was clearing out spam from my personal e-mail, already bored with my weekend. I noticed an e-mail with the headline "Hutch, you have 17 new matches!" Woop-de-doo. Doesn't mean jack. But still, it piqued my interest. Why the hell not take a look? So I finished my profile (queasy the whole time) and started fishing for real. It seemed like every guy listed 'working out' or 'going to the gym' as one of his interests. Whether he really is a gym rat, or thinks that by saying he is, he will get more girls, I don't know. But anyone who views exercise as fun and not a necessary evil is clearly someone who will not be interested in me (who works out faithfully for months at a time, only to go months without working out at all.) Not that staying healthy and active isn't important. But if you spend over twelve hours a week in the gym running in circles and lifting heavy things, your priorities are out of order. Or they just aren't in sync with mine.

Just seems rather pointless, doesn't it?

I also noticed an inordinate amount of guys with pictures of themselves in the bathroom mirror taken with their iPhone. Whether they were fully clothed, shirtless, or lifting up their Ed Hardy shirt Situation-style, this was a major turnoff (*salutes* "Major Turnoff!"). I don't know why it bothers me so much. Some guys may just not have a good picture of themselves, but can't they have their friend or mom or cat take two seconds to snap a photo that doesn't have a toilet seat in the background that clearly hasn't been cleaned in years? Nothing says sexy like seeing which kind of deodorant and shaving cream a guy uses while he throws up some lame peace sign. Of course I'm judging these guys, but I'm sure my profile is just as lame in other ways. Because as I observed previously, it's impossible to create these things and not come off as some type of tool.

Typical. And just silly. Stop it, boys.

Within a few minutes with my face permanently fixed in stinkeye position, I already had a couple guys interested in meeting me (meaning they probably just pushed the 'yes' button while scanning my picture for .5 seconds without actually reading my profile. Not really flattering, but I'll take what I can get). I also had a message from one guy. It wasn't much, but it was a start. So I started e-mailing back and forth with this one guy, as well as a couple others. The problem is, what on earth do you talk about with a complete stranger?

The basic theme of the conversations seemed to be "Hi, how are you today?" Me, being the witty conversationalist that I am, always tried to throw them off with something adorable and quirky, but they didn't seem to really appreciate my sense of humor. Many of them just wanted to get my phone number so we could text. Like I'm going to give out my number to someone who could be an axe murderer. (Which could conceivably happen in a bar or other socially acceptable arena, but at least then I would know what he was really like in person first and if it was worth the risk). Plus, and more importantly, I don't have unlimited texting and this could get expensive.

This kind of messaging went on for a few days until one night when I got a chat request from some guy I had never heard of. He was kind of cute, and had a profile I would actually consider. (The ratio seems to be one in twenty-four profiles is not completely abhorrent to me. That sounds like I'm really picky, but I just don't want to waste my time with Douches. Note the capital 'D.') So we're chatting away, which seems to be slightly less stilted than e-mailing back and forth. Discussing relationships, men and women, even sex (but in a general, philosophical sense). Then he started getting dirty. Like really dirty. Which freaked me out big time. Aaaah! What the heck? Am I here just for some cyber one-night stand? Plus he still lives with his parents at 26 and uses 'u' instead of 'you'. NOPE!

"Well as far as I'm concerned, the internet is just another way of being rejected by a woman."

-George from "You've Got Mail"

So that put me off the whole process for a while, but there were a few nice guys I was still talking to. I like that you can sort of get to know each other first before giving out any personal information lest they turn out to be an uber-creeper like the aforementioned. And you can always block a guy if he says something really random but cruel like one guy did. I won't repeat what he said, but it didn't warrant a response. Just a swift click of the 'block user' button. I got that message, another chat request from dirty perv boy, and made a connection with one of the good guys all within about 10 seconds of each other. A little overwhelming ride of emotions, from pain to disgust to delight. I'm meeting one of the guys for the first time in a few hours (in a public place in mid-day). We'll see how that goes...

PART TWO So when did you get saved?

Yesterday I was invited to my neighbor's birthday party. He's a nice guy that I've talked to a few times since moving in in March. I always kind of got the feeling he dug me. Which put this whole fantasy in my head a la Friends or Big Bang Theory of falling in love with the guy across the hall. Not that I was that into him, but that's a pretty powerful pop culture image. Plus, it sure would be convenient seeing as it's the complete opposite of a long distance relationship.

I miss "Friends" a lot.

I stopped by about 30-45 minutes late because I thought it would be awkward to be the first one there. Hah. Also I was watching Friday Night Lights which is my new favorite thing in the world. (Sorry Desperate Housewives, you've been replaced. I don't give a crap about high school football, but this show is riveting and so well-done! Plus I met one of the actors and wanted to get more familiar with his oeuvre of work. Tee hee, oeuvre sounds dirty doesn't it? Anyway, back to my story.)

Hell yes!!

I walked across the way to my neighbor's apartment where several people had already crammed in the tiny one-bedroom. Picture this, a room full of nicely dressed though slightly douchey looking dudes sitting in silence around a veggie tray watching a subtitled kung fu movie. There was one other girl, but she didn't seem to have anything to say other than "Are you sure you don't want any potato chips?" Maybe she was just as bored as I was. I could tell something was off about this party. But not wanting to sit awkwardly much longer, I asked, "So, how do you guys all know each other?"

"Oh, we all go to the same church."

Oh....

I should have suspected this when I noticed the cutesy angel sign reading 'God Bless This House' over the bedroom. Not that there's anything wrong with going to church. By all means, if it makes you feel good and provides the social atmosphere that people crave, that's fantastic. I just knew I was even more out of place than I thought (besides being underdressed in just jeans and a t-shirt). So more awkward silence persisted while the kung fu movie gave us something to look at besides our shoes.

Hell no!

Then one of the guys turns to the guy to his right and asks, "So when did you get saved?" The guy responded, "Once when I was seventeen, then again when I was twenty-six and gave my life to god to be a pastor."

It was at that moment that I knew I had to get out of there. Luckily, I had a good and true excuse that I had to go meet up with a friend. But our host was hiding in his room talking on the phone and folding laundry. I didn't want to leave without saying goodbye. Because we were all sitting silently, I couldn't just slip out unnoticed. So I counted the minutes until my neighbor was done with his laundry so I could say "Happy Birthday" and take off. He gave me a hug, (which I am not a hugger, but whatevs) and said to stop by when I got back.

Finally I was free!!!! I drove off like I had the devil after me (tee hee). I went to my friend Eric's house for our Sunday tradition of quiche and True Blood (which is a whole lot more satisfying than church in my opinion.) Why quiche you may ask? Because it's effing delicious for one thing. And for another, Eric and I have been making quiche ever since his 21st birthday almost exactly five years ago when we got drunk and were craving quiche even though we had never made it before and ended up making the best quiche ever even without any recipe or soberness and proceeded to eat it on the floor of my kitchen with two random girls we met at the supermarket at midnight after work. So that's my quiche story which I've probably told a million times, but it was such an awesome memory I don't care.

After True Blood, I headed back from Koreatown to NoHo only to find an ambush waiting for me in the parking lot. My neighbor's "party" had turned into a late night bible discussion. My neighbor called me over and I couldn't very well say no even though it was late at night and I was tired. True Blood takes a lot out of you, you know. He asked me about my faith, which I tried to sum up succinctly. "I believe in something, but I'm not a fan of organized religion." Of course, my religious history is a hell of a lot more complicated than that, but it was too late to get into it.

But he kept goading me in the polite, well-meaning way Christians often do. And I just couldn't deny my Hutch heritage to debate circles around an opponent. Normally I hate debating, but he wouldn't let it go. So I let him have it. And I explained how many horrible things I have witnessed under the guise of religion. How I don't believe in the bible, so don't use that to support your arguments. How my biggest political believe is that religion has no business in politics. How I don't agree with a large majority of what is considered to be a sin. How pretentious, insincere and commercial religion has become. How religion has mistreated a large number of my friends who happen to be gay and caused them so much pain and heartbreak. For all the good things religion does, it destroys and divides just as much.

It was a calm, respectful discussion for the most part, but it did raise my hackles quite a bit. Especially when an older gentleman got involved and tried to convince me that people aren't born gay. I tried to make him understand that why would someone choose to be estranged from their family, bullied and beaten at school, not given equal rights under the law, and suffer so much derision from people like him if they weren't being true to themselves?

Anyway, so now it's going to be suuuuper awkward whenever I see my neighbor. I used to think he wanted in my pants, but now I know he just wants to save my soul. Which is kind of hurtful to my ego, but whatevs.

Hutch's Origins

As some of you may know, I am a former Mormon. Or as I like to call it, an agnostic 'For-man.' At least that's what it says on my Facebook. As I was trying to fall asleep earlier (and obviously not succeeding), I started thinking about how the term 'forman' is kind of a contradiction. I may have quit going to church when I was fifteen, and have a bitter hatred and resentment of all religious institutions, but at heart, I am still a Mormon.

The faith/culture that you were raised with informs a huge part of who you become, regardless of whether you still or ever believed the dogma, actively participate, and/or generally follow that religion's traditions. The fact that I come from a large family, have inherited my pioneer ancestors' massive baby birthing hips, and possess an innate talent and passion for scrapbooking and musical theater, are no doubt the direct result of being a Mormon.

I'm glad I was raised with the church, as it taught me many useful skills like making marshmallow PVC guns, corn husk dolls, square dancing, and puppet shows. It also instilled in me the importance of family, a strong moral compass (which always manages to surprise me), and a deep aversion to both cigarettes and coffee (both of which are bad for you. Then again, I do occasionally indulge in alcohol and caffeinated soda.) I also refrain from dressing/acting like a ho-bag, but that could be more because of physical inadequacies rather than moral restraint.

I'm also glad I left the church because I probably would not have gone to UC Irvine, been a film major, worked at Blockbuster, met most of the friends I'm still close with to this day, travelled around Europe and Australia on my own, and moved to LA to pursue a career in the film industry. My original plan (in fifth grade), was to go to BYU Hawaii, meet some studly Return Missionary who likes to play board games and loves his mother, and settle down with my four kids (two boys and two girls). I never planned on being a homemaker, but I did want to be a writer so I could work from home.

Obviously I'm also glad I left because I don't agree with a lot of what the LDS church, and most churches for that matter, espouse. Primarily their recent stance on Prop 8, which has been well-documented. Not as well-documented was their prior involvement with Prop 22 several years before. This very similar prop was actually the reason my family started to doubt our previously stalwart faith. How could a church that is so protective of the institution of family want to deny any of God's children the right to actually form a family? That is when my dad started investigating the darker history of the church and the hypocrisies of religion in general. He explained his decision to leave to us, which completely shattered our whole world. But in the end I think it worked out for the best.

So even though I duck whenever I see the missionaries that live down the street from me, and constantly make fun of my Mormon instincts to bake and sew and reproduce, I experience a knee-jerk reaction whenever someone else tries to mock my people. Primarily when they bring up the subjects of polygamy or magic underwear. Mormons are NOT polygamists (you get excommunicated for that), and 'garments' as they are actually called, are no different from a Jewish prayer shawl or yarmulke or a Muslim turban or burka. We don't believe they have special powers, they just show our commitment to God and enforce our (admittedly arbitrary) rules of modesty.

As much as I hate to admit it, being Mormon is who I am. I may be ashamed of it sometimes, especially when they try to get involved in politics, but I can't erase those first fifteen years of my life. And I don't think I would want to if I could.