It is cold still, though. Very cold, again by Austin standards, which means it was a paltry 26 early this morning. I had to turn a space heater on for the first time this year for a few stretches but mostly have been good with the second-hand warmth filtering up from downstairs and wearing socks around the house. Take that, December.
My Gmail chat status reads “F*ck this month, at least until my plane leaves Austin on the 20th” and yup, that about sums it up. Let it pass fast, although it undoubtedly will whether I wish it or not. With the possible exception of this weekend, which reveals nothing more exciting scheduled than getting a haircut; Brandy and Rick are hosting a party to celebrate finishing her last undergraduate class ever – congratulations, B. ! – although I’m not sure I’ll go as parties and me… well, you know. Several of her family members were going to come down from Tulsa but canceled due to the anticipated weather. Given what I know about her family, not sure if this is more incentive to go or stay home.
Could go to MFW too, for the third week in a row, but I doubt it. Last week everything was relatively ducky until the next-to-last minute when the veggie-Christ man stood up wearing another vegetarianism-is-holy t-shirt and broke the silence to preach about – well, guess what. As with the last time, the close dovetailing of his “ministry” with his apparel (plus his timing, which virtually guaranteed he got in the last word) offended me deeply with its complete lack of spontaneity and unconcealed manipulation. I got up and left the worship room and while still on the premises used the Meeting’s wifi to send Worship and Ministry a “now are you going to do something about this asshole?” message. No reply to date.
I was so angry that if I had seen Mr. Veggie in the parking lot then I would have committed the most-unQuakerly act of knocking him down, saying “That is very much what it feels like to me when you pull that shit in Meeting For Worship. Like it much?” In fact I’d probably still do that tomorrow should the chance present. So I’m not going to give it one, no.
The problem with a zealot like this guy is he’d be almost certain to think I was objecting to the message itself. I’m not – only the method in which he delivers it. I object strenuously to being preached at in my worship space, particularly when it’s so blatantly premeditated. (Dude admitted it himself: “This is the time of year,” he began, “when I have the unpleasant task of telling people things they don’t want to hear,” right before letting fly with his polemics about the torture and murder of animals. Fuck that.) The problem with zealots is to them it’s always about content, never about form.
Come to think of it the same is often true with Quakers, zealots or not. Most of those who practice unprogrammed worship seriously seem to think there’s no one way to do things right, and all messages are grist for the mill. I beg to differ. I believe that if there’s one unalterable rule in unprogrammed Quaker worship (aside from “Don’t come into Meeting drunk, stoned or otherwise under the influence,” of course) it’s “Don’t come into Meeting with an axe to grind.” I would like it if the FMA Worship & Ministry committee saw it this way too, but I’m not holding my breath.Arrrgh. A little censure sometimes is a good thing. A very good thing, for all involved. Why is it I’m drawn to the parts of society that seem to be the last to acknowledge this? (Rare though they may be. I think there are something like 25,000 unprogrammed Quakers in the US and there can’t be more than 70,000 burners. Even in this self-proclaimed Land of the Free very few people appear to want this degree of freedom.)
Anyway, I’m left with a Sunday to fill. Not even going shopping with Rick, as following the celebration at their house they’re going out of town to further mark the occasion. (Brandy’s been working on her B.A. for something like 10 years now. Rick and I are taking bets on how long after her graduation it’ll be, despite her protestations to the contrary, before she’s back in school again.) Some people are having a good December, at least.
I will too – once the plane takes off. It’ll be a whole new level of cold to deal with when it lands – and maybe some actual snow, too! – but I can handle it. I’m not a Texan, as you’ll recall.