So I passed the New York BAR exam. I have no idea how I passed, I was under-prepared, over-anxious, and an all around bitch in regards to the process. All of my study buddies passed too, with flying colors. As per usual 85% of any grade I receive is utterly thanks to them.

I did well enough to waive into Washington D.C., North Dakota, and Minnesota. Why anyone would want to practice in any of those three states... I don't know. But fuck you, I'm going to anyways. One is flat, one is filled with people with a funny accent, and one is full of assholes. Can you guess which is which?

Religion is always a mixed bag. It provides something useful to certain kinds of people, who do need it. It is also a tool, used to subvert the will of that same group of people and make them do horrible things.

Horrible things like... persecuting the homosexual in California by spending millions to support proposition 8.

I grew up in the Catholic church, making it loom large in my mind in any situation in which its deeds (good or bad) are involved.

That is why I am so disappointed that the Catholic Church invested money to support the removal of the homosexual right to form contractual life partnerships - marriage, civil union, whatever you want to call it.

The Catholic Church invested this money, in what can only be called a hate-filled past time, in a State where that money could have been spent to feed, house, and educate homeless children. Homeless CATHOLIC children, of which California has a large population of stranded Catholic immigrants.

Then the Catholic church whined to the media that protesters are attacking them for their hate filled act.

Here is why I find this so upsetting. Supporting Proposition 8 is a hateful thing to do, but it is your belief - and so be it that is your right.

But in California this year, the Catholic church had money to spend. They had the option to spend that money making the world a better place or to invest that money in an act of hate that brought no benefit to the world.

This Fall the Catholic church chose the evil option. Sad.

This is

In the late afternoon of October 21st of 2008, the woman who raised me died. She had been dying for quite some time, and we had been saying good bye for slightly less time. The fatigue of saying good bye to her had begun to set in, not just in me but in us all. She had been unconscious, sedated, for so long that to me it was like she had died weeks before. She had died, but our hope had not. She had not died, in the sense that her body continued on with mechanical assistance and medication. But the person we loved was gone, she could no longer respond to us. This is death in every way that matters to me, and it worried me. I worried that I was letting her go too soon, then I worried I would not feel it as I should when she died in physical fact. I need not have worried. My grandmother didn’t.

 

One night before she left for Boston to receive the stem cell graft, I overheard her talking to one of our cats. She did not know I was within earshot, it was late and everyone else in the house was in bed. The cat was very old. It had stopped eating and moved as though it was always sore. But that cat never stopped demanding attention, forcefully. It would claw its way into your lap, ram its head into your hand and pet itself if you did not.

 

My grandmother asked the cat if it was afraid to die. Then she pointed out that they were both old girls. The cat never answered, I assume it just kept butting its head into her open hand – petting itself if she was too slow. But I believe the consensus was clear, neither was afraid.

 

My grandmother never stopped doing what she had dedicated her life to; she cared for and fiercely protected the children in her life for over forty years. She helped anyone she could, whenever she could and she went after anyone she felt deserved it, no matter what. If these traits can be found in our genes, then please, let them occur more often together – the world would be a better place.

 

She said to me before she went, with absolute earnestness, that the only reason she consented to medical treatment in Boston was so she could be around for the kids until they were a little older. She wanted to be there for them, and she didn’t want me to have responsibility for the kids on my shoulders. She honestly felt guilty that she might die without seeing my brother and sister completely raised. I hope she let that go because she had already done more for us all than anyone could have ever asked of her in good conscience. She gave everything she had on a regular basis to two generations of children.

 

It has been a couple months since I heard my grandmother speak to that cat. Not wanting to embarrass her, I stepped away when I overheard. I knew she would not want to indulge fatalistic thoughts in front of me. Both parties to that conversation are gone now and I miss them both. But it is a source of comfort to me now to know that my grandmother was not afraid. I believe what she said, she felt only regret not to see the little ones grow up. There was no fear, she believed wholeheartedly in reincarnation and had for the past five years or so. That comforts me, a lot. I believe her regret is what caused her to fight so hard for recovery, even once unconscious. Again and again doctors told us she was certain to die during the night, and for weeks she surprised them all. Even once the machines and medicines were removed she continued to fight stubbornly on.

 

All she ever wanted was the well being of her loved ones and for us to love her back. She achieved that level of enlightenment naturally, it was her natural state. It was her natural gift. Her example will be missed. Her help, love and support will be missed. But most of all, she will be missed. I don’t know what we will do without her, but we won’t let her down. We will finish her legacy, the kids will always be safe and raised the best we can. That is the best thing we can do to honor her memory. It is probably the only thing we can do to honor her memory.

I'm sitting in a hotel in Lexington, Mass and I'm honestly at a loss for words. 12 hours ago, I was driving here to say goodbye to the woman who raised me - forever. Last week doctors urged us to end treatment of my grandmother, who had been on a breathing machine for several weeks.

We decided to let it go one more week, just to be sure we exhausted every treatment option. In her weakened state (chemo) she had contracted four serious infections. 1 Viral, 2 Bacterial, and 1 Fungal infection in her blood. Her white blood count was so low that we were advised the fungal infection was pretty much a death sentence - we forced ourselves to move into thinking only of her comfort and giving up on thoughts of recovery.

A week later... She was off the ventilator for 2 hours yesterday. She beat the fungal infection - or at least it appears she has from preliminary tests. Her blood pressure stabilized when they removed her medication, and she survived being shocked for an irregular heartbeat with apparently no ill effects.

This is all great news. There can be no doubt that her recovery is still a long shot, doctors are swift to remind us of that. But today when we walked in, they spoke to us about quality of life post-recovery instead of "ending her suffering". That's a big change.

Her hair is growing back, she has color back in her skin. She honestly, looked dead to me last week. Today, she looked alive - pained, but alive and as robust as a woman who has had a stem cell transplant and spent the past 2 months unconscious and bed-ridden could possibly look.

To even be talking about recovery options and different ways to move forward with treatment... It scares me. I resigned myself to losing her. If I hope too much, I mean... the odds are still against us. But, hope? How can you not.

It's really hard telling a 13 year old and an 8 year old not to hope. I don't think there is a way to protect them against what might happen. I can't even protect myself against what might happen right now, how can I possibly explain it to them?

I guess you can't out-think events and get ahead of the emotional curve, no matter how much you want to or how much you need to. It just can't happen. I have to accept this hope, embrace it, and just know that odds are I am going to get the shit kicked out of me again. Believing in her recovery is the least I owe her.

Oh sure, Harrigan's latest article over at Capitalist Chicks is humorous. It highlights idiocy, which is his bread and butter. But it isn't like he did a geological survey for this one, he just hacked a few chunks off the virtually tapped out mine of idiocy that is PETA. Mocking PETA is a like mocking scientology - easy to do, but you aren't going to stop stupid movie stars from giving them money.

PETA does not respect the natural world, that is simple fact. As an individual who cares about the environment, I am embarrassed by the organization  - deeply so.

That said, if you want to hear why PETA hates ice cream - Harrigan is probably the best one to hear it from so head on over and give him a read.

My family, or at least, what remains of it has elected me to a new job. Actually, maybe it was more of a decree than an election... doesn't really matter - either way I'm fucked.

Or to be more exact, I need to come up with a conversational way of discussing sex so that my brother is... well... not fucked. At least not before the age of 18!

That's right, my grandfather acknowledged today that he's just not up on the technicalities of sex in a world teaming with diseases that did not exist when he was out tom catting. His solution? Me.

So now I have to figure out what I want to tell this kid. Figure out my stance, etc, figure out what I believe. I waited until I was 21, although not really by choice - more just because my relationship situation at the time demanded it.

I don't really think it's realistic to ask a young man to wait until 21, he's biologically predisposed to nod his head yes and then walk out the front door and hump something if you try that tact.

So that is the safest option that would leave me with the most peace of mind - except it also has the lowest chance of working at all. So in essence, asking him to wait until he is 21 is a false sense of security that will most likely result in... bad things.

So what's left to me? I could assume that he will have sex in high school - that's a pretty fair assumption actually. He's already playing the "I Love You" game with girls on the phone @ 13..... (jesus I know.... slow this shit down!)

If I make that assumption, then I have to take a permissive tact and run around trying to avert disaster. Provide condoms? I guess I would have to, if I took this tact. Clearly there would have to be STD education as well, since we all know the Catholic Girl stereotypes.

But at 16 is he really mature enough to remember a condom? To put it on right in an excited moment? To ask if she's on birth control? Is he mature enough to differentiate between "Ms. Prim and Proper nice girl first timer" and "Peggy Sue Crotch Rot"? I don't really think he will be at that age, I'm not really all that sure that I was. I was lucky more than anything at that age.

So what am I left with? A middle ground? A compromise? 18?

Do I make my case like so - "Listen, sex is exciting but it can ruin your life. That's why I want you to to wait until after the age of 18 to actually do it. I'm educating you now, because there is so much learn that I'm going to make you listen to this talk more than once just to make sure you will know it all when the time finally comes to put this safety knowledge to use. I want you to wait until you're 18 to have sex. It may not feel like it now, but that's actually when MOST level headed people begin to explore it for themselves. A lot of your friends are straight up lying about their sexual experiences right now."

Clearly that needs refining - I have no idea how to go about this. Teaching abstinence is borderline child abuse in my opinion. It's setting the child up to fail because you aren't providing the safety measures and info that will protect them from their biological impulses.

But if I am too permissive, it's like I am condoning early teenage sex - which is the last thing I want to do. That's a terrible idea.

How am I supposed to walk the razor's edge between these two extremes? Advice is welcome. I'm going to wait around 4 days to have the talk, collect my thoughts, etc.

Let me start this off by saying that Gnarles Barkley is a master musician far beyond what his hit singles on the radio can possibly represent.

Of course, this song may simply touch upon my thoughts at the moment because I lack the luxury of leaving and my mind may indeed already be gone, nevertheless I am prepared to keep going on.

This weekend was ridiculous. Instead of Boston, I trucked the kids down to the Poconos to visit their Uncle and his wife (who is I think now their aunt? lol).

The trip was all in all fun, the kids enjoyed it a ton. We went white water rafting in a raft sans-guide through some class III white water - nothing major but enough to make it hairy when you have no idea what you're doing and you have to keep snagging a seven year old out of mid-air when the boat ejects her meager 60 lbs of weight.

Of course, with my family there must always be a hitch. Saturday night my Uncle and little brother took it into their head to walk trails and creeks around 10 pm because the moon was full enough to give some light and they wanted to creep up on some wild life etc. I accompanied them, just to make sure I didn't have to fill out any missing persons reports.

After about an hour of this, my uncle began trying to tell me about my "real father" who was a friend of his at the time apparently. Of course, nobody can really know who my father is because my mother is insane, so I'm not too interested in all this but he starts to get pretty detailed, giving me names etc and laying out a story that may or may not be true.

I finally tell him that I honestly don't care who my father is, it simply does not interest me. He got a little ruffled by this, pointing out that he was doing me a favor and that other people care very much about their parentage. I tried to explain to him gently that I was pleased with the genetics I received, some might say altogether too pleased. What else could the man give me after all? His love? My family slots are full up, no more love required. His money? Even if it existed, I don't want it. Knowledge of inherited diseases? Eh, I'll never make it that far. It's a wash, the man has nothing I want and after a while my uncle came to accept this.

I don't recount this whole scenario because it was especially poignant for me. I recount it, because it wasn't. The thought that this would be sprung on me now, in the midst of everything else going on in my life was so absurd to me as I stood there in this dark creek bed... I just silently laughed. No one could see my face, but I think if they could he may have been hurt by the my chuckling.

Really? Now? Right now? This is when I'm going to find out about this person who may or may not be my father? When all this is already going on in my life?

I don't want to present it as the straw that broke the camel's back, I'm no where near my load bearing limit yet. Probably not even halfway there, I was made for this. I exist to handle poor situations. I am worthless in success but a rising star in disaster.

Instead, it was just that final confirmation. Ok, the game's not fair anymore, no sense in being frustrated. Things have simply crossed over from being the run of the mill troubles of a family and now, to me, they exist in the realm of the ridiculous. The "stress test" if you will is in full swing I now suspect. A stress test is of course far less stressful when you are aware that it is a stress test.

My uncle didn't give me anything I wanted to hear, but he did bolster my ability to laugh in the face of disaster and failure. Thanks, lol.

Just because you aren't where you want to be doesn't mean you aren't somewhere good.

My grandmother is conscious again, for the first time in about 4 weeks. She is breathing on her own, a huge step up I say. She narrowly avoided receiving a tracheotomy, and her pneumonia has apparently begun to recede. Her throat is very swollen, keeping her from really talking or eating solid food quite yet, but she is responsive.

She is still deeply confused, but most of the dementia has gone away, except peculiarly the notion that I am dead. I'm considering running up to Boston this weekend to clear that one up, mostly so I can finally use the "The rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated" line.

The lease on my grandfather's apartment in Boston is up on Monday the 15th so he will be returning to Binghamton. The downside to that is of course no one will be visiting my grandmother everyday in the hospital anymore, but we still plan to make frequent trips at least each weekend. The upside is that I will now have someone to split child rearing duties with for the kids. I got the hang of raising children pretty quick, but I sure wouldn't mind another driver in the family.

Lately it has seemed like every time I sit down to apply to a job, a sudden emergency pops up to keep me from finishing. It's a frustrating feeling, although not as frustrating as the two interviews I had to cancel because I couldn't find a babysitter. I think that going forward it's going to be a lot easier for me to conduct my job search, hopefully results won't be too hard to find.

Personally I'm in a much better place as well. I'm beginning to realize (all over again) that a great deal of the unpleasantness I brought upon myself last month was the result of me imprinting on a girl who was one of the first positive relationships with women in my life. It's natural to have some very strong emotions about that, but understanding their cause was a big part of moving beyond them.

All in all, despite the catastrophe that this summer was, I have to say - a lot of good work done both in terms of fulfilling my obligations and duties to family, moving myself forward emotionally, and in taking my bar exam. It is all progress in the right direction, it's just not the kind of progress I thought I would be making right now.

I’m just going to warn you all that the following is narcissistic and self-indulgent. But it’s a blog, that’s why you come. I have no way to express how little desire I have to hide my feelings. What I write here is in congratulation to myself. I deserve it.

Growing up isn’t easy. Sure, the gradual part of growing up is. You stay alive, experience the day to day, you live, you learn, you become a better person. That’s a nice, easy process. Perhaps some people get through life that way, they learn well enough that they don’t need lightning bolts sent crashing through their world in order to continue their development. They don’t need tragedies and catastrophes in their life just to help them keep their maturity level somewhat abreast of their peers.

As we all know I am not one of those lucky people if they exist. I am a slow learner, shockingly undeveloped in some areas of my life. These events, when they occur, they make me grow in a hurry. My heart quails at the thought of adapting, it believes it cannot, and then eventually it does.  A friend gave me a quote from Samuel Beckett that fits nicely with how I often feel, “I can’t go on, I can’t go on, I’ll go on.” Such is the nature of all things, sink or swim. I will always accept change in the end. I am a pragmatist at heart.

In my youth I was a manipulative, jealous, controlling man-child who did more to break down my partner than to support her. I am no longer, through the long efforts of countless martyred women who for some reason chose to date me – I owe you all a debt of gratitude. It is easy to say what I am no longer, but does a leopard ever truly change its spots? Isn’t that sick little kind of man the same we know on sight? The kind we hate? Experience tells us that people cannot change.

No, I changed. I have the proof. I know it for a fact. My proof goes beyond mere testimonials but is of no value as evidence to anyone but me. I have been denied what I secretly wanted most for years now although I would not have admitted it. A secret I buried deeply, hidden from myself more than anyone. It was avoided at all costs due to its desperate nature so that I could live in peace.

I was confronted with it this year, by surprise. Arrogantly I thought avoidance was not necessary, I was certain my heart would no longer betray me. I was mistaken. Old feelings came flooding back and I suddenly realized what I wanted most. I was left breathless. But it was not to be. I have new skills to learn now, in order to deal with that arc of the story – but that’s not what we are discussing here today.

I have been denied by the woman I mistreated most and the woman I wished to be with the most. It breaks my heart and her denial of my foolish dreams was both permanent and emphatic. There will be no changing her mind. There is no motivation for her to risk such a reversal, the past occurred and was horrible. Even if the future could be different… why? Why risk it? It would be embarrassing for her even to consider a return to partnership with me.

It broke my heart, it did. But on my 26th birthday I realize it did more than just that. It gives me proof. She denied me what I wanted most and I did nothing but accept her decision. I did not fight, I did not rail against her, I did not attempt to manipulate or lash out. I did not attempt to save face, because I now know matters of the heart are no place for ego.

No, I went meekly and honestly to my fate, to my rejection. I expressed my feelings openly, without hope, but also without reservation. I spoke the truth and I accepted every consequence, every boundary, every decision she set in response. I did not restrain myself. I held back not one comment. I did not need to; there was neither cruelty nor lie in my heart.

I know I can do it, I know I’ve become a better man. If ever there was a trial by fire that was it. I already knew I was better, I already knew I had grown – I had after all moved onto relationships that I can only describe as filled with happiness for all parties involved despite our acceptances that what we had was not forever. But they were easy relationships with few disagreements and little strife. It is not difficult to be loving and supportive when circumstances are happy and lovers share an effortless bond.

But, here I was tested as harshly as I could imagine. This is definitive proof for me and I am pleased by it. I broke the cycle. Despite the pain the situation causes me (of my own causing), I will cling to what I have gained here and know that I will be able to love in a healthy manner in the future. I don’t need to fear obstacles or hardships, they will not sour my relationships and turn me rotten inside again. The future looks bright.