Dumbledore is So Gay

I'm not sure why, but I find that totally cool. Not that his sexuality should be made a big deal of, but I think it was awesome of J.K. Rowling, who has almost as much power as Oprah (almost), could put something out there, particularly to eight bazillion children, showing them that one of the greatest and most beloved characters in children's fiction is gay, and instantly make it both a shock and no big deal. I can't imagine children across the globe going, "What? He's gay! Fuck Harry Potter then!" After the initial surprise, I think with the love for the books (and Rowling herself), it will just be like an "Oh" moment for children, and pass. If she had put it IN the story, then it would have been a political lightening rod, and rather tiresome, while anti-gay groups flipped their shit. Now, it's just a footnote, as it should be.

Besides, the only people who I assume would make a big whiny deal out of it would be the same people who defiled her books as evil, witchcraft, satanic, etc. Ho hum..., anyway.

She outed him in Carnegie Hall. I like her style.

"Oh my god," Rowling said, "The fan fiction!"

She ain't kidding. Not that slash wasn't pumping strong before this, but I'm sure this will inject a bit more thrill into those authors. There's been tons of Lupin-Sirius fan fiction already. Running through characters in my head, Luna seems a likely choice for gay or bi...or maybe just asexual. She was sort of consumed by her own thoughts...

And though Rowling didn't reveal it, I can easily see his long, scholarly relationship with Nicholas Flamel being collaborative in other ways...

As Beau said, "It's not relevant to the story." Exactly, and that's why I think it's genius she did it this like this. In a very subtle way, it promotes acceptance. Thanks, Rowling.

Connie

I love love love this. It makes me happy. And a little teary-eyed.

Books Books Books!

"I cannot live without books."
-- Thomas Jefferson

That quote would make me look cool save for the fact that the only reason I know it by heart is because I've played so much Civ IV on the computer that I have memorized all the quotes elegantly recited by Leonard Nimoy after each scientific discovery.

Anyway, through the unending maze that is blog-to-blog reading, I came up with this from a total stranger's page, and wanted to do it myself immediately, though I know I'll think of a better answer for every one here and then get pissed at myself later on.

1. One book that changed your life.

This is difficult for the simple fact that it depends on what PERIOD in my life, for I've had a book change my life every few years. Also, because as a youth, my reading level was so far advanced, much more than my actual maturity level, I read many books before I could actually "get" them, like The Great Gatsby. Anyway, when I was a teenager and my spirituality was in chaos and confusion, The Razor's Edge by W. Somerset Maugham had a huge impact on me. Reading of someone else's spiritual journey and release from so much superficiality (as well as a voracious appetite for books and knowledge) spoke to me. I read it a few years ago in Bangkok and couldn't stand it.

Also when I was young, The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas was huge for me. Again, re-read it in Bangkok and though I enjoyed it, I found the utter cutthroat need for revenge over all else to be distasteful. Not that I didn't root for him, but I believed that by the end he had somewhat lost his way. Maybe I'd feel different if I had spent many years in a cold, dank, shithole of a prison.

A bit later, The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera resonated within my very soul, and would result in my use of the handle Sabina for the rest of my life (so far).


Even later, English Passengers by Matthew Kneale, which I still claim to be my favorite, was the book that made me truly realize that more than anything, I wanted to write historical fiction, and eventually would take an expensive but very valuable writing class in NYC, and then follow that up with ...just a bunch of blog writing and a few chapters of a now defunct book. *sigh*

Finally, and really sadly and embarrassingly, the most recent book to influence me was Dr. Phil's Relationship Rescue. I know, I know, I've totally de-legitimized myself now, but when you realize that you've got a cartload of emotional bullshit baggage, it can be rather freeing to have a book shake you up and allow you to release, manage, and if you're lucky, destroy at least some of that crap.

2. One book you have read more than once.

I'm not a huge fan of doing that, and rarely do since there are too many wonderful books I have yet to read, but I guess it would be Danny, Champion of the World by Roald Dahl. It was in our bookcase when I was a child and I used to read it, parts of it, over and over on the long days of the sweltering summer when I preferred to stay in my air-conditioned room reading, drawing, and playing with tiny plastic animal figures, much to my grandparents' chagrin who wanted me running around in that desert heat (yeah, right). The photo to the left is the exact edition we had - with gorgeous, detailed drawings inside by Jill Bennett - much more beautiful than the annoyingly messy illustrations of Quentin Blake that dominate every damn Dahl book now. A few years ago I went on ebay and finally found this same edition and bought it. I completely cherish it.

It may not be as glorious and imaginative as some of his others (Charlie, James, The Witches), but is a simple, yet touchingly told story about the relationship between a boy and his widower dad (with a little classic Roald Dahl naughty humor thrown in). It makes me think of what kind of parent I would like to be - kind, patient, fun, and allowing a kid to be a kid and not treated like some kind of pampered, fussed over, fragile egg that could crack open at any second.

3. One book you would want on a desert island.

The five-novel set by Marcel Proust entitled, Remembrance of Things Past. They'd drive me totally looney toones, but they'd last for years and years. Maybe I'd even read them in French to ensure a complete mind fuck.

4. One book that made you laugh.

The Sex Lives of Cannibals by J. Maarten Troost is HYSTERICAL! I usually loathe travel books, finding them pretentious and annoying, but this one was simply delicious in both its humor and its brutal honesty. No "oooh exotic" natives here. Also, it paralleled so many of my crazy experiences abroad that the book was like a friend who understood me.

5. One book that made you cry.

The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini. Fantastic book, rich and sad and beautiful.

6. One book you wish had been written.

English Passengers above qualifies. And hell, Harry Potter would be nice! And every time I read a really good book, I am green with envy that the author wrote it first.

7. One book you wish had never been written.

To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf because it was fucking torture to get through, and I still feel guilty that I didn't like it, or fear that I didn't get it, and the whole rest of the world did. Rubbish. Rubbish. Rubbish. Anne Rice's Memnoch the Devil and The Map that Changed the World by Simon Winchester are a close second and third.

8. One book you are currently reading.

Three Cups of Tea: One Man's Mission to Promote Peace...One School at a Time by Greg Mortenson. He came here to UM a little while ago and we organized his talk. Fascinating man, though no way would I want to be married to him - I'd stab him for sure. Very touching, sweet book about the good that can done by one person with just a little bit of money and love.

9. One book you have been meaning to read.

Thousands! But I'd say Guns, Germs, and Steel: The Fates of Human Societies by Jared Diamond is right near the top. It was one of those books back in the English bookstore in Bangkok that I was tortured over for months - seeing it on the shelf, wanting it, but daunted by its hefty price (all English books were jacked up to the sky there). I finally bought it, thrilled at the opportunity to finally read it, and then read about one chapter before abandoning it for various, stupid reasons. I've been meaning to get back to it many many times and haven't. Git.

10. Ooh, the bit where I tag people and guilt them into playing along. Okay,
Jera, Lazuli, Jenna, Beau, Steve and Varen, Spongie, Froya, Loafkeeper, Fuschia, yeah!

*HIC*

I have the hiccups.

AAAARRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!

Glacier

One of the great pulls to moving to Montana was its natural beauty and opportunities for hiking, fishing, exploring, canoing, etc. One of the saddest results of moving to Montana is never having the free time off of work or money to do these things. But once in awhile, we manage it, even if we have to cheat a little.

Beau did something that neither of almost ever do, he called in sick...when he really wasn't. Stupid Wally World doesn't seem to offer personal days, and only allow him 3 sick days every 6 months (yeesh). Like me, Beau doesn't normally miss work either, unless he's bleeding from a lung, but he's been subbing during the day and dealing with Wally Bullshit at night, so he just needed ONE day off.

We decided to finally make it to Glacier National Park, something we've both been itching to do, especially me, who has to suffer somewhat as co-workers often come in on a Monday morning regaling me of tales from their adventures there. Unfortunately, the main road was closed at one point, but we knew there were other things to do, and since we had one whole day, we went for it.

Takes awhile to get there, but as usual, I read aloud as Beau drove. This is a rather symbiotic relationship since I love to read and he would much rather drive. I always bring two books: one a "fun" book usually a fiction novel from a current series we're on, and one is usually our most recent self-help, make-your-marriage-strong book, which is guaranteed to make Beau grimace when I pull it from my sack, but with which he still participates faithfully. Currently we are on our third book from a Sci-Fi series I read many many moons ago and from where I pulled one of my internet handles from. It's not the most sophisticated prose, but it's fun and fast-going. Plus who doesn't like a book with colored unicorns in it?

The "marriage" book is called "Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work: A Practical Guide from the Country's Foremost Relationship Expert," written by this renowned research psychologist who, if you can get past his inflated arrogance about how HE is the lone man in the universe to have figured out why marriages actually succeed or fail through his decades of staring at couples in his marriage lab, is actually rather eye-opening and revealing. He claims a 94% prediction rate whether a couple will divorce within one meeting of them. The book was highly recommended to us by someone in the know in this area, and I think it's very valuable, though even with my enthusiasm, it can take us quite awhile to trudge through a non-fiction book. On the positive note, during our hours in the car yesterday, we have discovered that we both have fantastic "love maps." This basically means if we were on the Newlywed Show, we'd win a bazillion dollars by easily naming each other's favorite foods, biggest stresses (duh), and favorite place for making whoopee.

After several hours in the park, where unfortunately we did NOT spot any bears -- a long-standing joke between Beau and I regarding how you can't see any bears in NZ, but you can easily (ha ha) in Montana -- or wolves, which I was hoping for, or even a frickin moose which would have been awesome, we did spot several deer (Beau stifling his yawns), a couple of bald eagles (cool), and a few colorful rodents (eh). At one point, both of our eyes scanning the fields for wildlife, I shouted out, "Stop stop! Back up!" Whizzing the Honda backwards, we stopped some distance away from a large, brown object I was hoping was pay dirt. I got out my camera while Beau oriented our cheapo binoculars. After a moment, he said, "Ahhhh."

"What is it?" I demanded excitedly.

"Yuuup," Beau said, slowly in one of his 'country boy voices,' "That there is the very rarely-seen, rusted out John Deere tractor."

"What?" I said, taking the binoculars from him and focusing on it myself. "Oh, damn."

We strolled along an easy and pleasant trail through a forest which let in little sunlight, and another through a giant open meadow where the ground felt like walking on a sponge, apparently since once upon a time the whole field had been one big lake. And I swear, every time we passed a small creek or river, Beau would look down at it and say, "I've fished in that."

My heart hurt a little knowing just how much he yearned to actually be fishing in it again, but the cost to outfit him with fly fishing supplies (since he'd sold/given away all of them pre-New Zealand) and the free time to actually come here, are not available. It is so frustrating to him to make it to Montana where he has spent many a happy week camping or fishing, only to now spend most of his days in the windowless, fluorescent hell that is Wally World.

We ended the day with a stop at the in-laws, who live in the town where the entrance to the park lies. There was some irony in that when we came into their apartment, they were watching a special on the enormous amount of grizzly bears that roamed around the park. Well, they were actually talking about Yellowstone, not Glacier, but still. Close by! We ended the day at KFC where the in-laws watched as Beau and I, completely and utterly famished, tore into our chicken like Hannibal Lecter.

Anyway, to end on a nice note, the following are my gorgeous, and sometimes humorous photos of the day:

Lovely little creek at the entranceway.

This reminds me of "Mirror Lake" in New Zealand, for obvious reasons.

Bald Eagle

Shadowed us. And unusually soft-looking me.

It was a bummer all the burnt-out trees (of which, sadly, there were many many many throughout the park), blocked the shot of this amazing, meandering river.

I loved how it named drowning as its #1 cause of death, therefore implying that there were several other ways of kissing your ass goodbye in the park....


Ahhh, here's another way: serving as a bear snack. Drowning or bear candy? Hmm, I'm going to go with drowning. No wonder it's the #1 choice, err, cause.

And for Loafkeeper's pleasure, here is the photo of that rare John Deere species:
Keep in mind we were going by in a car!

Que Sera Sera

The "Life on Pause" situation we've been feeling for the past ten months continues on, but at least now, there's a little bit of hope. A little.

After what seems like years, but in reality was only a few month's worth of numerous conversations of weighing options, financial plans, job realities, future dreams, and one very thorough Pro & Con list by yours truly, we've decided that we'd like to give New Zealand another go. BUT.

It's really not that simple. Besides the fact that we'd have less money this time (ugh), it's not like we can just buy a plane ticket and leave. One of us (really, Beau) has to procure a job first, and as you can imagine, trying to get a teaching job in a country an ocean away, basically via phone and email, is not so easy. I know that as the supervisor of teachers in Bangkok, I never hired anyone from overseas, despite our constant need for employees. It was too big of a risk to have someone move their entire life to Thailand where most did not adjust very well, unless they had a penchant for hookers and silos of beer. The one time I did it - with a friend - it went disastrously wrong. "Did it" as in hiring a friend, not doing the hookers and beer part. *cough*

At least we have our first experience under our belt, so we have an idea of what to expect, what we need to do, etc. It's perfect timing right now. The New Zealand school year begins in early 2008, so now's the time they begin hiring teachers. We've got a subscription to THE job notification system, and have been compiling a list of possibilities. Unfortunately, it's not as long as we'd like, but it IS a country of just 4 million people. How many Biology teachers can they need?

We've sent out about a half dozen applications so far. All have been to rather sizable cities, New Zealand-wise, (Auckland, Christchurch, Wellington). It's weird - both of us have this same feeling - it's like we're both really really hopeful and excited - and at the very same time, we're pretty much pessimistic, since we know the reality. Besides, we just don't have the strength to be blindly optimistic right now, so we're subtly vibrating with hope.

The first school Beau taught in was a tiny rural school with an ongoing shortage of teachers and a tradition of hiring foreigners (a South African replaced Beau after he left). We don't think schools in Auckland or Christchurch have the same problem.

But, Beau has both his fantastic experience in the U.S. and his time in a challenging New Zealand classroom on his side. Maybe...just maybe.

And though we are both desperate for good work, we're trying to be very certain that it's not a move of desperation. The other day I was perusing photos on a group on Facebook dedicated to living in New Zealand. So many of the places were familiar and I was really struck by a longing to return. It's not just about leaving Montana, though I certainly want to do that, it's about BEING in New Zealand. I don't just want to get a job there, but I want to be there, walking around, looking at the ocean and feeling the cool air. I want to raise a child there. I want to experience the rest of my life there, in a place that's big enough for all I need and small enough for what I want. That was one thing that seemed to separate me from many of the others on Facebook commenting on their favorite NZ city - they all lauded the touristy places - Queenstown and Wanaka for their ample winter and adventure activities, Rotorua and Wellington for their cultural ones, and Auckland for all a big city can offer you (like jumping off the Auckland Skytower like a lunatic). These were all turn-offs to me. Turn-offs in that I was approaching it a different way. When I think of New Zealand, I think of places I'd love to buy a house, get a job, have a baby, and just live the rest of my life in. Cities like Dunedin and Tauranga came quickly to mind. They're my favorites because they're where I want to BE, not where I want to PLAY.

If it doesn't work out, well, at least we gave it an honest try. As for Missoula, as Beau says, "we just gotta keep doing what we're doing," and not get bogged down in disappointments. It could always be worse. *knocks on wood frantically*

Back in 2002 when I decided I wanted to move to New Zealand, I had many ideas and reasons that were important to me. Those reasons haven't changed. And maybe, just maybe, I can get into rugby as much as Beau. I'll certainly never get into it as much as the Kiwis.

Freedom and Suckiness

I feel as if Jera and I are 'Life is Crap' twins lately, for when I read her blog, it's like reading a page out of my own life. You begin to reconsider a lot of things about yourself when things continuously go wrong, like, "Wait a minute, maybe *I* am the lunatic here." I remember back in Bangkok, my assistant director and good friend, Bill, used to say over and over again, "Wait a minute, is it us? There's no way that EVERY Western teacher is a fuckwit. What the hell?!?!" This after dealing with yet another asinine teacher who acted in strange and/or frightening way.

And you can't help thinking that it all just kind of snowballs. Stress leads to health issues which cost a lot of money which leads to a lot more stress which makes you more sick, and then you start feeling like a hypochondriac, oh shit. I've recently been diagnosed with dangerously high blood pressure. It's a long story, but to me it seem pretty simple; one-part family history (just about everyone in my family keels over from heart disease, usually somewhat young), and one-part suffocating stress. A deadly cocktail. I'm on medication, and I think about salt a lot more now than I ever did, but so far it isn't budging much. Apparently it's my systolic that's the problem, when you're 170/101, it's the 101 that will kill you.

As I've partially-documented, life in Missoula has pretty much sucked, despite ongoing efforts on both Beau and my part to seek satisfying and decent-paying employment, improve our health, pay off bills, and fight an oncoming depression from it all. I've sort of gotten to the point now where I'm starting to hate it here. Looking at the big picture, I do see a nice, good-sized city that is fairly attractive and has some interesting things going on. But in MY world, it's a place where jobs are low-paying (Montana just passed up South Dakota to become the SECOND-to-worst (best?) state in the country in low wages. Yeehaw.), and where work situations are just so crazy that it does more than confuse me, it totally messes with my head.

Quitting Shop-n-Smile has been one of the greatest joys of my recent life. Just being home at night is wonderful bliss, despite the fact that I spend most of it cleaning and ironing since Beau and I never have the chance to clean our now gross apartment. I was hoping the new focus on my day job at the university would prove to be fruitful. Less tired, less rushed, less distracted. But it now seems that even THIS job is becoming more and more troubled. It hasn't been all that great anyway, but it's was always better than Shop-n-Smile, which made it "the better job."

We got a new boss - and he's one of the most powerful men in the university. He's a really nice guy overall and a genius diplomat. When he arrived, Office Manager Woman (OMW) latched herself to him like a baby possum. There were lots of closed doors and things changed rather quickly. She went from pretty sweet woman you could joke with (who gave me, like, no work to do), to super rigid professional woman (who still gave me no work to do). Her distance was not only alarming, it was somewhat hurtful since although I hated how she didn't give me tasks, personally I liked her very much. I kept telling myself she was just busy (and she has become super busy since the start of our new boss), and I tried to shrug it off.

And, I'm STILL a frickin temp. But the university only allows you to be a temp for a max of six months, and my six months were coming fast. The main reason I allowed myself to be poached by this department and leave the other department I liked so much, was that this department promised the job would go permanent quickly and then so would benefits (medical insurance, free tuition, sick and vacation leave, etc.). Well, it's been six months, and this "temp job" has been extended - THREE times. I've started to become a bit resentful. It feels like my life is just on pause.

So, a week before my six months were up, and I still hadn't heard much, I wrote a letter to my two bosses and the OMW basically saying, "Well, there's only a few days left. I can't work past then...I'll be UNEMPLOYED." I said it a bit more diplomatic than that, of course.

I heard nothing.

This scared the crap out of me, because you'd think if someone thought you were a great employee and wanted to hire you, they'd let you know, not keep you hanging. And I knew that once the six months came about, they could just say "Bye!" and that'd be it. Also, let's remember that I just quit Shop-n-Smile. Fuck.

I reflected on things - I know I've been doing a good job. I rarely do things wrong/mess things up, and I get a lot done. I always show up for work and I've already established great relationships with a slew of people across campus (who often joke how it can't be possible I work in this office, since I "actually have a sense of humor" and I am "too nice"). But when your boss has seemingly turned on you, you're screwed.

The irony here is that my bosses LOVED me at Shop-n-Smile and repeatedly begged me not to quit, and I couldn't stand the place. I thought my bosses here liked me too, but now, now I'm paranoid. At least I get along fantastically with the rest of the staff in the office. I've even gotten Crazy Carla to loosen up some - she actually laughed aloud today and said, "You're so funny!" It felt like a triumph.

So, when that Friday, the final official last day of my "appointment" came, OMW came up to me in the morning and said, "We need to talk in a few minutes." My stomach dropped. Just what you never want to hear either from your boss or from a lover. But, in true medieval torture fashion, "a few minutes" became an hour. Three times during that day OMW told me "We'll meet just after X happens," and then it'd happen, and we wouldn't meet. I felt like I was losing my mind, and thought of a Dilbert cartoon I had JUST seen in the paper a week before where a similar thing happened to Alice, my favorite character:Beau, knowing my sky-high level of stress at what was to happen, called frequently, "Did you meet yet?"

"No! She said after I get back from lunch now!"

"Geeez, postponed again!? She's going to wait until I have to leave for work at 4pm and then I won't be able to talk to you!"

"God, I hope not!"

Consequently, we met finally -- at 5:00pm. I was taken into a room and the door was closed. Great, this is it. I thought about another job I could go for - kind of like a teacher's assistant at the local elementary school. It wasn't glamorous, and it paid less, but it'd get me back into teaching in some form. I kept telling myself this to soothe my soul - for I'd never been let go from a job before, and knowing myself, I knew I'd probably bawl. I just hoped I could control the flow of salt water until I got to my car. No one likes an office crier.

OMW slowly began, telling me that the position had finally been finished (they'd been working on the "job description" for about three months), and that it had been submitted to Human Resources. Now, with everything that had to happen, all the chains of command, the posting of the job to the public, the slew of interviews they'd have to do, and finally hiring someone, it could take about six weeks. (And of course, since they had to open the job up to the universe, there was no guarantee it was mine).

Six weeks! Six weeks of unemployment if I chose to go for this job, instant unemployment no matter what. I inwardly panicked. But no, this was not the case. I was told that although I was about to pass up the 6-month mark, I could continue to work, they would just be forced to pay me for benefits for the six weeks. How odd to have full benefits for 45 days only. Well, okay, so I wasn't being "fired," that was good.

Then, OMW, wearing her all-cool, all-professional demeanor, began to tell me the two things that were "wrong" with me, which in all honesty, weren't really flaws, but just things I had to pay attention to (like that the phones were ALWAYS covered - apparently a pet peeve of our boss - even if I went on break or something). Okay, no problem, I could do that.

OMW then started to go on and on about "communication" and how it had paid special attention to that in the job description, making sure to add it in certain parts. "Communication" has been the hot, new word in this office lately. It's all about us all communicating, which is a joke, it's really more about control, but whatever, I can communicate. So, with this emphasis on talking to each other, I waited for her to address our recent distance, her stony silences, her sudden lack of friendship. She never said anything. So, I brought it up. It had been driving me crazy anyway, and I knew I just couldn't continue at this job with this stupid tension.

Immediately she admitted she had felt it too, and that it had bothered her. To her, it had started after she had returned from a vacation, (her thinking it was me), and that she had even gone to my boss about it (gee, thanks). As we talked, though I didn't feel all warm and fuzzy, I felt a sense of relief that we had gotten this out. Maybe we could become friends again. We both love to laugh, and I had missed that. Then she suddenly told me something I had done that had really upset her. Believe it or not, it was when I was actually thanking her for something she did for me, but she took it as me thanking her for NOT doing something immortal (oh lord), and so, had seen it has some sort of backhanded compliment. It wasn't. It sucks that she interpreted it that way, and I'll have to think about how I presented myself, but it's not an accusation I've ever heard before. "Hey! Thanks for not being a dick!"

I felt like things were better, and yet, still strained. When I had asked her what my chances were of actually getting this job permanently (since I had stuck it out so long with that in mind), she refused to give me any clue, saying it wouldn't be right to say. Then she went on to say that when I first joined the staff, and we had frequently chatted, and she told me a buttload of juicy gossip and information on a regular basis, that it had been "totally inappropriate." Well, maybe in an "official" way stuff like that is inappropriate, but co-workers in most offices bond on their mutual gossip, and OMW had never shared anything with me that was malicious or cruel, mostly just the history of the place, which was already steeped in chaos. Her statement made me feel bad again, because all those chats had been so friendly and fun. I guess that means we wouldn't be buddies anymore. I told her I was relieved, because I thought I was going to get let go. "No, no, no," she said, "I would never do that. I would only fire someone if something was really dreadfully wrong" (well, gee, I guess I'm not dreadful then). So, when I finally left the meeting, I felt better, but just, weird.

The next morning when I came in, I had a feeling of optimism. Things had to get better now. But when I sat down at my desk and opened my email, my heart sank. There was a long letter from OMW, basically going on and on about how my perception of being "fired," was incorrect since technically, it would just be the ending of my temp assignment, so even if I hadn't been offered another six weeks of work, I wouldn't have been fired legally, blah blah blah. Yes, she was right, legally, but really, I would have been let go only because I suck. Hiring another temp now would be silly. The email left me with a cold feeling in my stomach. So much for a warm and fuzzy reconciliation. Again, when your boss is against you, you should start sending our your resume.

God, I want to leave Missoula.