sundries

[rm]

From the Department of Not On: Political ad claims opponent is gay.

I just.... it's an interesting situation because it's happening in the GOP, and my stance on outing is that if you publicly support anti-gay causes, media and/or legislation and it turns out you're queer and in the closet, you are fair game. Otherwise, not our business. Now, I don't know what this guy's stance on various gay topics is, but since he's running for office as a Republican, it's conceivable I might be okay with him being outed for hypocrisy if it turns out he is both gay and a hypocrite. On the other hand, he's being accused of being gay by _another_ Republican who's message seems to be "don't vote for this guy because homosexuals are untrustworthy creeps who have icky sex." UGH! What a mess.

The Other Side of Sadness

I am wearing a jacket my parents got me for the holidays that is _very_ Martha Jones.

Ordered stud set for tux which is not here yet (starting to freak out, because if I need alterations I need TIME to get them done).

jonquil links us to the latest update on security procedure changes for flights. Looks like that crap about the blankets and the use of electronics in-flight has been lifted. Still, if you're flying into the US from another country, expect ill-trained strangers to touch you. I have no idea what the current state of affairs is for domestic flights.

Little Kitty Story of the Day: Little Kitty and the Fruitless Commute.

When I lived in Gramercy Park, there was one day when she got out of the apartment and went into the open elevator so I called down to the doorman, and was like "my cat's in the elevator, stop her! I'll be right down!" But the doorman just turned her around, hit the button for my floor and then LIttle Kitty got back out of the elevator and came home.

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[ladyaelfwynn.livejournal.com]

Today is the 27th anniversary of my mom's death in a car wreck; I was 6 weeks away from turning 14.

I may get the "Other Side of Sadness" because I've always felt I was doing grief wrong. When I was younger, there were times when I thought others, especially my dad, were doing it wrong as well.

I clung to odd bits of Victorian mourning, at least in my head. I would've worn black for a year and then transitioned into other somber colours slowly, if it would've been financially practical (dad was working class, we wore what we had). If people still made mourning jewelry out of the deceased's hair I would've wanted some brooch or something.

As it was, I didn't go to the funeral nor the viewing as I did not want my last memories of my mother to be similar to the last, horrid memories of my beloved grandfather who'd died two years earlier. His veiwing had sent me screaming in tears from the room. I wanted to remember good stuff. (And it's only now, 25+ years that I'm curious as to whom attended my mom's service. All in all, I still think I made the right decision.)

Now, I just feel strange about all of it. I go to funerals because we're supposed to and I have nothing to say because there really aren't words to convey just how sucky it is to lose a loved one and that some days it'll be better and that eventually if you're lucky the better days will outnumber the crappy days. Knowing that going to see a movie or going out dancing with buds is not weird when it comes to greif is reassuring.