More Art-y Stuff... finally

I haven't said much about anything art-y recently, which is a shame. My head is so full of other stuff at the moment.

In fact, my last art-y post was here, my very first post on this blog. Pretty chuffed actually, as the artist actually commented on the entry where I went all fangirl on her painting.

But since then I've purchased two photographic prints by Noah Grey of Texas, formerly of Dublin, Ireland and Redondo Beach, California.

One went to my parents and the other is over my fireplace and I love it so very much. I'll get a picture of it later... it's one of the first things I've loved enough to have properly framed. The sad thing is that as of 2009, Noah Grey left the internet. Actually that's only one of the sad things about him.

He -- a gay, aspie, Texan -- lived in Dublin for a few years with his husband who was epileptic. When Barry died from a siezure in his sleep, Noah left immediately after the funeral. Shortly after his arrival home, his sister died of cancer.

I don't know why he left the internet, but I miss him. While I knew his husband Barry from various animal discussion boards, I never actually met Noah, but his writings and photographs were a regular part of my weeks.

I found a couple photographs of his (besides the one of Barry) still floating around on the internet.

Because I'm obsessed with marine imagines, I chose this one. Enjoy. :-)

Why the Outrage Gives me Hope

Just a quick note really.

I'm not a sports-type person. Except for ice hockey, which is a constitutional requirement as a Canadian citizen, I really don't bother watching sports.

Last night I kissed my wife and said, "See you in a couple hours". I put on my earphones and proceeded to twitter and YouTube and work on a two page cat agility article. You don't want to know about this.

But then it happened. Ireland scored. France scored. It was getting exciting, so without revealing my interest, I started to listen a little bit. I'm afraid that if I reveal my interest, I'll lose my leverage I gain from "letting" her watch her sports.

But then it all went really truly wrong.



And while I don't understand much about the game, I know he cheated. I have no opinion on whether or not it was intentional, and to be honest, it's irrelevant.

What is relevant is that sports are meant to showcase the best of us. It's supposed to be where we see our best and strongest, working their hardest and being good sports... win or lose.

The outrage I have seen (from French, English, Spanish, Irish, Catalan, etc people) has cheered me to no end. The very fact that France's win left such a sour taste in the mouths of so many affirms my belief (in my better moments) that people really are intrinsically good and fair.

Whether anything ever comes of this, I'm delighted to have witnessed that people really do care about fairness and justice after all.

Now, if we could only harness that outrage for something other than football.

To be out or in? And how out, is out?

I'm out.

I believe strongly in being out and in how that can affect our fight for equality.

I consider myself to be totally out of the closet, and that's been the case for a decade.

I'm out to my parents, brother, extended family, old school friends, colleagues that work where I work, and those in remote offices. I regularly post gay news items on my facebook page.

I left Canada after a very bad employment experience where my boss went ballistic after discovering my sexuality and I swore I would never be closeted again. And I haven't. Mostly.

I work in a shop. I deal with probably 20-40 individual people a day. Some take 10 seconds, others I deal with for hours, and some of them become regular customers, and I would feel like I know them quite well. It's not a corner store. In doing my job I have to ask for some sensitive information from people, so it becomes appropriate to share some as well... for comfort and rapport.

I've had this concern for over ten years, although the reasons for it have changed.

I remember ten years ago, a lesbian was trying to buy a gift for her partner. She played the pronoun game badly and clumsily and I knew. But I never said anything, although I made myself extra friendly so she would feel more comfortable. The following day, she brought her girlfriend in.

I resolved I wanted to be in some way obvious -- at least to other gay people -- so they don't feel uncomfortable around me. I bought a labrys necklace and wore a rainbow bracelet. It mostly worked. And for a while, that was enough for me.

But it's getting to me again. So many people I speak to often have absolutely no idea that my partner is a woman. Add to this that I wear a wedding band (we were married in Canada a few years ago but Ireland has no gay marriage or civil partnerships), there's no way for people to even suspect.

And yes, I get that "it's none of their business" and "why would I want them to know?" and I can be happy enough with myself if my closetedness was simply a sin of ommission.

But it's not. I play the pronoun game. While I certainly don't use male pronouns, I don't use the female ones either. And given that my wife has a very male-identified career, it's easy to just say what she does, while clumsily omitting the pronoun.

What do you think? Should I risk it and let a she/her slip on occaision? Should I get a new rainbow bracelet? Get a gay/lesbian themed ring? Should I just stop worrying?

My wife will not allow me to cut my hair. Just sayin'.

Newsweek Writer uses Rachel Maddow as example of how gays need to assimilate for Marriage/DADT rights

Newsweek's Entertainment writer, Ramin Setoodeh, writes that Rachel Maddow is a good example of how gay people need to "dress the part" to join "someone else's party" to get marriage rights, and the repeal of Don't Ask Don't Tell.

And because she was named in the article, I will point out that Rachel Maddow  values her outsider culture as a gay person. A person who identifies as a "big lesbian who looks like a man" probably isn't the right person to hold up as an example of a well-behaved gay who is, "dressing the part" to be "invited to someone else's party." While I'm not a fan of her tv "look", she wears a lot less makeup than most women on television and less than some men, I'd dare say.

The assimilationist argument is an old one. Bigots say they'd like black people better if they'd act less "black". Bigots even rail against "stereotypes" maintaining that minorities can and should act the way the white, Christian majority do... in order to make people like them better. All while sounding very PC of course.

Now the argument is being made to the gays. Come on, gays. Act less gay. Stop having those bothersome pride parades. Stop insisting on being so damned different. Leave that otherness behind.

The problem with that argument?

It doesn't work.

First of all, it's not acceptance of our differences if we first have to become the same as you.

And second, even if we're all dressing and talking and living like straight people, we're still fucking like queers. And that's what people fear... not our short hair, flaming demeanour or doc boots.

Third? We are different. The very fact that gay people grow up in a straight world makes us different. Our teen years and twenties (and later for still many people) are dominated by questions straight people need never address. Will our families abandon us for being who we are? Is it better to keep it a secret and remain alone? Is it possible to have a relationship but keep it quiet? When should I tell my boss? When do I tell my friends? Did I get made redundant because I'm gay? Did he mean that joke to offend me?  Will people be offended by being invited to my wedding?

I remember arriving at the local gay bar shortly after I came out. Immediately upon entering I spotted a guy I knew from the university's Christian community. He stared, somewhat panicked. I smiled and so did he. We were secret allies then, two "others" among the rest.

My otherness is a part of my identity and is part of our community. I refuse to get rid of it. It's part of what made my younger years so tough and part of what made me, me. I don't want to be the same, I want to be a part of the same things, as me... otherness and all.

Assimilation should not (and I'm confident, will not) be a prerequisite for acceptance.

The Forgotten Employed

The article in the Irish Times today quotes Taoiseach Brian Cowen

"Prices are falling at the fastest rate in 75 years. The latest inflation figures published on Thursday show that prices fell by 6.6 per cent in last 12 months. This means that the real value of take-home pay and welfare payments has increased by that amount in the last year,"

He goes on to say that the hardest hit are the unemployed... which is true, of course. I have huge sympathy for those who have found themselves unemployed at a time when there is so little employment to be had.

But what he, and so many others miss is that they are not the only ones impacted. Thousands have taken pay cuts, either through deliberate pay cuts or because they are self-employed or they make commission or tips as a primary part of their income.

I work on a basic that is lower than minimum wage and commission. Looking at my payslips, I took about a twenty percent pay cut this year, just in lack of commission and volume bonuses (this wasn't much anyway... I've never made the average industrial wage).

There were no big stories about pay cuts in my company. We didn't have any negotiations. Nobody lowered our bonus target levels. The company just happily ticked on by as the staff suddenly struggled to pay for the basics of life.

Those higher up are more cushioned, with higher basic wages and a smaller part of their income which is dependent on performance. For those of us at the bottom, we have nothing but the hopes that Christmas will bring more than peace and goodwill, but a small amount of money to pay those bills.

I'm told often I'm lucky to still have my job. It'd be nice to feel that way when payday arrives.

Love and Marriage... go together, right?

Yes! Like a horse and carriage! *sings*

You know what bugs me? Well, if you've been reading my blog or twitter, or have ever met me, you know a lot of things bug me. But that's not the point... not today anyway.

I won't talk now about what bugs me (I'll tell ya later), but I'll tell you what doesn't bug me. Couples who are truly, stupidly in love.

I don't know what's been up with me lately, but it seems everywhere I'm seeing couples who really love each other, which, for me, is a stark contrast to the usual "Can't stand him but what can you do?" I hear from women I happen to see everyday. And nothing... well almost nothing... makes me happier than seeing two people (or more, hey I'm open minded!) genuinely crazy about each other.


I have to say, for all their faults, the one thing my parents taught me is that love is possible. They're together still... my mom's first marriage and my father's second. Thirty-four years of two very different people with almost a decade's age difference and still they kiss each other hello and good bye like they mean it. I'm not saying my parents make out in front of me (ew), but their quick kisses are sweet and more than just routine. And that's a good thing. On paper, these two have almost nothing in common other than geographic proximity, but somewhere in each other, they found that connection that kept them going through some hard times.