Tag Archives: mulder

Catching up… a bit.

Wow. So, April happened.

I’m sorry I’ve been so quiet, but life has been insanely busy.

The PMP exam went well – I passed! The proctor at the Prometric center said it was also a record time, too… Heh. Good to know I’ve still got it. (After I took the GRE, I was dancing down Clark Street downtown…)

The furry con after the PMP was abso-fucking-lutely amazing. I went in with the intention of turning my brain off after that damn exam – I knew when I scheduled things that I’d either be consoling myself or celebrating at the con, and it was some great celebrating.

Things at Big Fuckin’ Food Corp. are… much the same as ever. I’m really looking forward to getting out of there. Unfortunately, I’ve been conditioned to loathe the jobhunting process with a loathing unmatched by anybody short of Mrs. White. So, I’ve been… taking my own sweet time about getting my resume brushed up. Sadly, however, I’ve only been able to drag that out for two weeks, so I start tomorrow. Mulder has started sending me job leads, and I’m going to be doing a lot of writing of cover letters. Yay! Or… something.

Speaking of Mulder… things with him and Hal have been, all in all, fantastic. I can’t help but think every day about how lucky I am. However, of course, things ain’t perfect. Hal couldn’t make it to the con, so I… found a very nice collection of gentlemen to entertain myself with while Mulder was off elsewhere. This ended up leaving him feeling neglected, and he didn’t tell me until after we’d gotten home, and it lead to this really long Conversation, and I was tempted to overreact, and… blarg. We’re OK now, and it’s good to have these things happen from time to time, but still. It sucks from time to time. Heh.

On the other hand, Hal is moving in with his primary boyfriend soon, and it sounds like they found a nice apartment. I still have no idea what’s going to happen in the future, but I love every second I have with him, and it’s gone better than every other secondary relationship I’ve ever had. The weekend before I took the PMP, Hal and I were tripping together, and went running around a park on a riverbank. It was absolutely magical, and it only cemented how lucky I feel to have him in my life.

And, on more abstract grounds… Thanks to my general disposition and a lot of therapy, I’m really prone to introspection, to what is probably an excessive degree. However, one of the things that’s given me is a very keen eye for what I tend to refer to as my emotional weather. I recognize what’s going on right now… A quote that’s haunted me ever since I read a fantastic novel at the age of 17 is from The Magus by John Fowles.

There comes a time in each life like a point of fulcrum. At that time you must accept yourself. It is not anymore what you will become. It is what you are and always will be.

While I think there always has to be room for personal growth and change, I think there’s a lot of truth in that quote – at a certain point in your life, barring major outside influence, your personality becomes largely fixed. However, there’s a lot that can be done with presentation. Furthermore, presentation tends to be sticky, both externally and internally.  However… there’s something about my headspace right now that would make it easy to change at least some things about myself – like the hobbies I spend time on, and just… my presentment to the world. And I’m spending a lot of time thinking about who I want to be when I get done with this next phase of growing up.

Man, I hope that makes sense… Otherwise, I might just be losing it.

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A few witches burning, gets a little toasty…

Sorry I’ve been quiet – a whole week just kind of got away from me somehow… I won’t commit to posting daily, but I will try to keep it pretty consistent, at least. So, I’ll try not to let more week-long hiatuses happen unannounced.

That said, into the meat of the things…

I was raised Catholic – something my father has apologized for. Well, he apologized for the 8 years of Catholic school. I was also Confirmed, although that was purely to keep my mother happy. I’d started questioning the Catholicism I’d been raised with at about the age of 10, and by the time I turned 12 I’d pretty much fully renounced the faith entirely. That, too, was all my mother – she was very good at emphasizing all that’s bad in Catholic doctrine(the utterly punitive nature of God, the fallen nature of all humanity, the ultimate depravity of all women) while utterly ignoring the good parts of Jesus’ message. Of course, that’s due to a lot of the Catholicism she absorbed – pre-Vatican II, still drowned in Latin and incense. She didn’t adapt to the changes very well… heh.

I went from being Catholic to (self-, and only internally) identifying as pagan. Not much of a switch, there… And in retrospect I realize a lot of what was going on in my head then, with these odd self-aggrandizing epics involving titanic, invisible battles between angels and demons, was really compensating for amazingly deep loneliness. At that point in my life, I could count the friends my age I had on one, maybe two hands. And not many more sympathetic adults… It was a bad time. heh.

My 20s were spent pretty firmly towards the atheist end of the atheism/agnosticism spectrum, with a position I would jokingly describe as “evangelical agnosticism”. To wit, “I don’t know, and you don’t, either.”

That, too, is shifting a bit. It’s odd, too – a lot of my questioning of the idea of spirit comes from my grasp of science. Specifically, what the Internets call stellar nucleosynthesis. The short explanation – the most abundant substance in the universe, probably the only thing created during the Big Bang, is hydrogen. Stars are big balls of hydrogen undergoing fusion – getting smashed together to make helium. And when stars explode, they make all the really heavy shit – from iron through and beyond uranium. This means that the carbon and oxygen and hydrogen we’re mostly made from, and all the rest of the stuff we’re made from, was at one point part of a star. So, you, and I, and everybody else, and all the other sentient things out there(since there has to be something out there) are, literally, starstuff. This isn’t really news – Delenn in Babylon 5 said it on TV in the 90s. But it ‘s something that a lot of people, including those on my favorite internet hangout, are increasingly aware of. (And celebrating(that’s been my wallpaper for weeks now.) And that fact, combined with all we’ve been able to learn about Nature, the fact that nature is, to even some extent, knowable, says to me that there’s Something Going On, and that something is greater than we can understand.

I’ve been talking a lot with Shepherd, a priest I know(in fact, the same priest who’ll be doing the ceremony for Mulder and I this fall) about stuff like this, and the position I’ve basically arrived at he termed panentheism. Reading the page, and pondering the difference between panentheism and pantheism, took a while, but it made sense at the end, and the distinction is important.

As far as the afterlife is concerned, I don’t know. I’d like to think there’s something significant, since human thoughts and emotions are a lot of energy, and it’d be an awful waste for that energy to just go away when we die.

One of the more useful things Shepherd has said to me is that reading the Bible and wondering about heaven is like consulting the rulebook for football for clarification on home runs – it’s not the book that’s appropriate for the job. It’s a guide to this life, and how we’re supposed to treat each other. It’s a fault or at least a limitation of mine that, given my still-in-progress recovery from my upbringing that I can’t quite appreciate the Bible for it’s good life lessons right now, and I have to leave it aside. But I know it’ll be waiting for me when I need it.

So, in accordance with the dictates of St. Savage, hallowed be his name, I took what he calls the Campsite Rule of dating and generally apply it to the whole world. He says that boyfriends, like campgrounds, should be left in better shape when you depart than it was when you get there – so, make it better. That’s such damn good advice(that I’ve tried, very hard, to follow – with mixed results) that I’ve applied it to the whole world, and as many of my daily interactions as I can. And really, I think that’s a pretty good way to live, for now.

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The “Holy Shit, It’s Really Happening” Files, Part I

Mulder and I woke up this morning, stumbled into our respective showers(we have two fully functioning showers now, and each claimed one) and headed downtown.

Mulder had met a kinky daddy dom on Fetlife, and the guy works as a jeweler downtown. Mulder had discussed our wedding plans with him, and he offered to set us up with wedding rings. Here’s what we settled on:

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They’re tungsten-carbide, with a carbon-fiber band under a protective coating. Nifty, eh?

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Thoughts On Poly #2 – The Rules

So there’s this app called Scruff.

Homos, as always at the forefront of new technology in the pursuit of sex, have multiple smartphone apps for looking for nearby dudes. Scruff is one aimed at the gay market… And tonight I met with someone off that app for only the 3rd or 4th time. I’ve got a theory that apps like this are actually detrimental to the gay community, because they promote an attitude of “Oooh, I’m sure there’s something better if I look just a little longer!” And that’s why I’m so horribly unsuccessful on apps like that… Or I’m just horribly unattractive. Either way.

This guy… Was not a ringing endorsement of this method. His pic was very dated, he didn’t disclose some important personal details(like his HIV status or semi-recovery from meth addiction) in his profile, and he was either lying about his age, or he was real proof that it’s not the years, it’s the miles. And he’s been ridden hard and put away wet.

It got me thinking about the actual rules Mulder established for our relationship. It’s a remarkably short list:

  1. Nobody HIV positive
  2. Nobody illegal
  3. Nobody who would harm our relationship.

And that’s it. Not bad, eh?

I don’t think that #1 is evidence of any HIV phobia or stigma on Mulder’s part, particularly. We’ve just known a couple of couples that were serodiscordant, and Something Happens every time. The plural of anecdote is not data, two or three is not a trend, etc etc. But his point stands – he’s making that rule out of concern for his health and mine, so it’s hard to argue.

#2 is the legacy of a time in my life when I had a significant taste for the younger-than-me. Not necessarily illegal, but… He just wanted to set a bright line in the sand, as it were.

#3 is really the most interesting. It’s also, in some ways, the most maddening – it’s incredibly broad, and basically left to my discretion. So I’ve had to watch for a lot of things before, including but not limited to Mulder worrying that I’d leave him(although only once) to guys determined to replace Mulder as my primary relationship, to a guy who got a little too creative with his recreational pharmacology during our relationship. (I might smoke a lot of pot, but I don’t do anything with powders – nothing up my nose or in my veins.) So I’ve had to do a lot of careful evaluation about the guys I even consider letting in my life. Thankfully Hal has been very easy in that respect… (And most others! *rimshot*)

Also of note is the fact that Mulder has seen fit to ban… exactly two people by name. One of them is a walking example of poly fail, the other was a douchebag of epic proportions who treated me like shit, but my self-esteem was so bad that any attention was good attention. (It wasn’t a terribly great time in my life. Bad meds…)  The poly fail is still in the general area – he recently contacted me to let me know his “tribe” is up to 11, which… I can’t even consider trying to attempt. And I(specifically I. There’s no One True Way To Do Poly) can’t think of it as poly… it just wouldn’t work for me. Although hearing about that did make me strongly think about my relationship limits and desires, and I’m about where I want to be right now – with one established, fantastic relationship, and one growing/thriving. Maybe I’d like a third some day, especially if he(huh. maybe even she?) is a submissive.

So… three rules, one basically defunct, one extremely broad. And two bans, neither of which is terribly concerning either. I think that’s pretty good, all things considered. And those rules have been pretty damn consistent over time, too… And we hit 10 years together in just a few more months… Yeek.

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Thoughts on Poly #1 – It’s Been A Long Way Getting Here

I have to preface this with a big acknowledgement:

I’m the luckiest fucker I know.

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Of Peas and Pillowcases…

My beloved-father, whom I shall ironically dub DaddyDearest, works for a nonprofit facility for the developmentally disabled – he is, however, working at a prison. It’s my father’s job to make sure that those 400-odd fine guests of the State still get fed every day. While the prisoners aren’t particularly going anywhere, there are still a lot of moving parts to making sure they all get fed. F’example, last year during the Great Blizzard of ’11, my father was the only one on staff in the kitchen for two days. The food still got out, albeit late, but he made sure everybody in the prison as an inmate or a guard got fed. He’s like that.

So, the first year the prison contract was up for renewal, my father’s boss(the director of finance for the nonprofit) and her boss, the director of the nopro, went to the Capitol to discuss the contract with the Department of Corrections.

When all was said and done, they had one complaint:

The peas in the beef stew were insufficiently green.

Le Director choked out something, and they left. It is given to my understanding that on the drive home she kept screaming, out of now, where, “Peas! They’re complaining about the god-damned peas!” She eventually calmed down, but only after it was repeatedly pointed out to her that if the only complaint the DoC had about Nonprofit’s performance was the color of the peas, things were going pretty well…

Fast-forward about 10 years.

Last night, as we were getting ready for bed, we discovered that one of the cats had pissed on our bed. Thankfully, we have a stain/liquid-resistant cover on the mattress, for exactly these cases, but there’s still the sheets, blankets, and so on. Mulder was grumbly about the cat using our bed as a litter box, and generally grousing.

I fetched a new set of sheets out of the linen closet, and started remaking the bed. Mulder suddenly stopped, and said “Where’s the pillowcase?” I looked around the room, counted thrice just to make sure, and, yes, indeed, we were short one matched pillowcase with the sheet set.

This. Will. Not. Do.

Mulder isn’t, usually, too OCD-like, but every man has his last straw, and last night that was Mulder’s. He starts ranting and raving about “How difficult is it to keep sheet sets together!?” and “Why do the Girls keep losing our stuff!?” Due to some real struggles on their end, last year we hired The Girls to help keep the place tidy, and take our laundry over. Protip: It’s incredibly awkward hiring friends. Don’t do it.

Anyway… since Mulder’s rant wasn’t aimed, directly, at me, it just glanced off my funnybone – and set me to giggling. I end up laying on our bed, laughing with tears out of my eyes, and Mulder, finally calmer, is just looking at me with one eyebrow spocked up.

When I finally calmed down, I got as far as saying “The peas!” before I set myself off again.

Mulder, somehow naturally, didn’t quite see what was so funny.

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