boy blue

i am ignoring the world and passing the time until mass. i have been trying to get in touch with how i feel all week. emotions have been flowing since the phone rang in the middle of the night to tell me my father had died. when i asked when the funeral was, my sister said they were waiting to know when i would be back. but i had decided two years ago that when the time came, i would not fly home. i should have warned my family, but when does that conversation come up. no one understands, and i have been asked to consider what i am doing; no one wants me to live with regrets.

my father had a heart attack and stroke two years ago. my mom has been nursing him towards recovery ever since. as i watched from far away, i could not remind her that they sent him home to die, not to recover. there was no recovery, he was bedridden, had lost most of his mobility and communication skills. earlier this year, persistant open wounds forced them amputate his legs. when i called home she would tell me how he had gotten up and moved around a bit, or that he was having a good day, but i have known the days were limited.

when i was in college, we would blow off campus during exam season and drive over to the ocean. classmates were in the library or studying in the dorms, but once i had studied i knew that what i needed was to get away from the enforced quiet time that others required. it was best for me to sit in the back seat of the car and drink a beer, listen to music and talk to my closest friends. i don't remember a single conversation, but i can still feel the closeness of the group driving through the night; far from the acceptable behavior of studying or sleeping.

at the end of my sophomore year we were driving to the beach in the middle of the night. i was thinking about the coming summer, i would go home for a few weeks and then off to parris island for my marine corp summer camp. i would not be spending the summer with my family, but i was already spending my school year away, so this seemed like the next step.

i had called home every week the first year of college; sunday at 7:30 on the dot. it was the time between sunday mass and the return to my studies. i would call home and let them know how i was doing, what was going on in my life. but early in my sophomore year i had made the call, and after talking for a few minutes a frustrated voice on the other end asked me, "why don't you call and tell us good news. it seems like there is always something wrong. can you not call until you have good news to tell us?" i got angry, and tried to debate the point, but they hung up. i stood in the phone box, staring at the receiver which i then slammed down, twice. the following week at 7:30 i wanted to call, but still angry i refused to edit my conversation. i wanted to share, but the sharing had stopped. i never called regularly again, and 27 years of drift has happened in between.

later that year, when i told my father i was joining the marine corp to fly helicopters, he asked me, "are you sure about this? you don't like anyone telling you what to do." when i think back on the tractor accident, and premature end of my military career, i realize in some ways he might have been right. i have learned to take and execute orders, but i have always needed to make my own choices.

on that drive to the beach we had ROCK 101 was playing. i was in a quiet mood and for the first time actually listened to harry chapin's "cats in the cradle". i knew the chorus, but the lyrics had always blurred by unnoticed. this time i listened to the story of a father and son's relationship over the years. it begins with the son asking for the fathers time, and ends with roles reversed. it was in this moment that i understood my childhood, but i also saw my future and realized how i was moving away.

when we got to the beach, i zipped into a sleeping bag on the sand. as i laid listening to the waves with my girlfriend i started to cry. she had no idea what had set me off, she might have thought it was exam stress, but i was sobbing over a broken childhood that i had no ability to fix. i might have gone into software because i like to build systems, or to fix those that are broken, but this one was out of my hands. my childhood may also drive my need to be in control, but in those moments i had no control. i didn't explain the emotions that night, but i have gone back to them over the years.

i cried two years ago when i thought my father was going to die, i haven't cried this week. i want to, but i can't seem to push the button. it feels wrong, i am not going to stand over the casket so why do i get to shed the tears from the safe emotional distance that i am keeping.

the words that have always haunted me are from the end of the song, when the father calls and asks to see the son who says he is too busy... i have never believed he was busy, work is not an issue, just a convenient excuse. the father ends the call and says:

as I hung up the phone it occurred to me
he'd grown up just like me
my boy was just like me

i am divorced, i live away from my kids, i do enjoy work. but i am not my father. my father would have gone to the funeral, even if he didn't want to. i am not perfect, and i never needed him to be. i am sad that he is gone, and that we never found enough time to spend together. but i loved my dad, and i know he loved me. we just never really understood each other, and that is how i want to be different, i want my kids to know the person i am inside.

this is not the end of the song, because i am the father now and my kids need me to call and make time to be there; so they can know me. i live half a world away, and have been home for e's birthday 5 years running; i wonder if he has noticed that. either way, i know i am no longer the son, i am now the father.

the song ends with:

and the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
little boy blue and the man on the moon
when you comin' home son?
i don't know when, but we'll get together then son
you know we'll have a good time then

goodbye dad, i love you.

i am sorry we didn't get together then.

fundamental laws

i am sitting in a cafe and watching two boys enjoying the confines of a playroom. their mothers are sitting outside and chatting over coffee. the blond boy continues to scream at the top of his lungs each time the possibly-asian playmate moves towards his toys. his american soccer mom continues to tell her son to shhhhhhhh and to move into the room to quiet his emotional outbursts. the semi-asian mom sits quietly in her headband and sweats as she and her son both politely ignore the noisy playmate. i am taking this in while watching "finding nemo" on the playroom dvd and reading a local paper to disguise my real focus.

the dominant story in the paper is over the proposed imposition of hudud laws in two of the more conservative states in malaysia. when this story first broke i assumed it was the majority party creating issues within the opposition as the general elections come closer. but if it started that way, the opposition has not been smart enough to side step the issue. PAS and DAP are now demanding the other side clarify it's position, and threats of leaving the opposition union are flaring.

the fact that hudud was passed by the states 10 years ago, and was shutdown as unconstitutional doesn't seem to matter. the advocates for this are fundamentally demanding that thieves have their hands cut off and that adulters be stoned to death. these are the mandatory punishments for these crimes in islamic law, but you can see how most of UNMO would be against their imposition. a week after the internationally positive press that ISA is being reformed, there is now a discussion of stoning people in public. you can sense the expat community, and many of the locals, cringe at the thought of universal sharia bedroom checks.

this story was placed next to the discussion of a church suicide-bombing in indonesia. the religious violence in the most populous muslim-dominant country continues to raise. the local paper stressed that the majority of the indonesian's are moderates. the international papers stressed that the country sliding down the slippery slope and again pointed out the 202 people killed 10 years ago in bali, and the muslims stoned to death by a crowd early this year. the leaders of that crowd were convicted based on the youtube video, they received 3 - 5 months in jail for murders committed with a policeman watching.

the members of the murderous crowd may have been directed by their leaders to protect their faith from less than orthodox beliefs. this could be similar to the statements made by pope benedict this weekend, saying the church could not accept gay marriage and urged young people root out evil in society and shun a "lukewarm" faith that damages the church. this is definitely a message to the non-orthodox majority of catholics, as well as those more fundamentally believing. you can imagine similar words being used to send the crowds out to stone less than acceptable muslims in indonesia.

there were other stories, bombings all over the world, conflict in nigeria, UN votes over palestine. the world economy is a complete mess, and people seem to find any reason they can to be at odds. all of this came into focus as i listened to the little boy wail with indignent pain because the other boy took the green truck and left him with only the red one. nemo was in the fish tank plotting an escape, but the boys were focused on the differences rather than coming to a common ground. the semi-asian mom sat serenely while the american mom fussed over the boys trying to solve the disruption.

this is when i came across the article, san francisco protesters: no nudes is bad news. it is a discussion of the nudist movement in the city by the bay, where they "generally allow public nudity". the malaysian newspaper did not have photos and was heavily edited from the original AP story. but did get the point across that people would like nudists in cafes to be polite and "put a cloth under their bottoms if they take a seat in public". the online version made it clear that is already the common practice.

this is a story which might only come out of san francisco, but it gives me hope. if i choose to focus on this story, i get to believe that the entire world is not degrading into conflict. the bay area has always been an early adopter and leader in cross-cultural acceptance; and cross-dressing. if soccer mom's taking their 7 year old to see the little mermaid could see the protest and simply say "i think you should cover up a little", then at least one part of the world can see something they disagree with and not need to kill the non-breeding nudist for the insult.

san francisco is a truly multi-cultural place. when malaysian leaders ask the people to modernize and become a high income nation they may not want to become san francisco, but they might want to consider it. to be truly successful we need stop the tension and allow the focus to be on success. debating lifestyles is not productivity, accepting that others are different is the progress this world needs.

when the taliban imposed fundamentalist islamic law in afghanistan they demanded women wear burqas and be escorted by male relatives outside the house. they completely shut down the economy, health care and education systems in kabul. san francisco on the other hand is one of the most successful cities in the world, it has cable cars, a great museum out on alcatraz and wonderful wine in foodie havens on the embarcadero. it also has naked guys walking around the street and moms who do not ask for anyone to be stoned to death, appendages cut off or even beaten with a stick.

the kids have stopped playing, the caucasian mom ended the playtime by taking her son into her lap and rocking him to sleep. the possibly-asian kid waited for this mom to get him, which she did when it was time to leave. i am here thinking about the US, but glad that i didn't need to worry if the last person who had this table was naked and refused to put down a cloth when they sat.

i am fighting an emotional outburst of my own right now, it's not over the newspaper or that someone took my toy. maybe i should just let go and scream, but i can't seem to break through. in the mean time, i suggest we allow others to live on the bell curve wherever they want, burqa to bare, halal to haram, let them be and don't get emotional. if you get upset, find a mom and ask her for a hug. watching that kid fall asleep was oddly soothing...

i wonder if there's a law against that.

schweddy balls

people don't really understand why i miss the US. it's not all the time, i like malaysia, in fact that might be why i am still here. there is incredible room for growth here, it is just stagnated under a culturally imposed corruption and social constriction. other than the promised to be repealed, or was that replaced, ISA and EO most of the fear in this country is self imposed. what we need here is a sense of humor, and the ability to say/do stupid things. because, sadly, that is what drives the economy.

if you don't believe me, i have an example. i was sitting in a cafe, and reading NPR when i came across the example. national public radio is a news organization in the US which is funded by the US government and it's listeners. they are tasked with being high quality and free of government interference with content. that doesn't really have impact on this story, but if MY locals are reading imagine news that lacks censorship, is not biased by any government overseers and has the freedom to report as they see the truth.

for example, try these articles:

• Malaysia To Abolish Two Unpopular Security Laws
• In Malaysia, Webs Popularity Breaks A Grip On Power
• Finding A Student Who Wasn't Lost: Social Media To The Rescue?

you might notice differences between those and articles that run in the NST or Star, beyond the quality of the writing.

as i read i came to an article titled: Stop 'Schweddy Balls' Effort Begins

the article is about an organization that says:

"Are you tired of all the negative influences our children are forced to contend with?"

and

"Our goal is to stop the exploitation of our children, especially by the entertainment media (TV, music, movies, etc.)"

to further these goals they have taken a stand against ben & jerry's ice cream for its limited edition product, 'schweddy balls'. beyond the fact that its a dumb name that no child under 15 could pronounce, it's not even targeted towards children. ben & jerry's is a premium ice cream and shelved well above kids view. the press release actually points out the companies last limited edition product that the less-than million moms had an issue with:

"a special edition of Chubby Hubby called Hubby Hubby last year which celebrated gay marriage"

and there we are. the mom's aren't seem pissed at the balls, they are still pissed at the company for failing to support "family values" and celebrating loving families that happen to have 4 balls, rather than the assumed mom accepted standard of two.

i might have taken a while to get to the point here, but here it is. all of this is happening without the national leadership condemning the impact to "social harmony".

a conservative religious group is looking to boycott a liberal-hippie company for a product that spun out a skit on saturday night live. SNL was making fun of NPR for being news of the liberal intelligentsia, which just happens to be the target market of the B&J's products. SNL is owned by GE, one of the largest companies in the world, NPR is largely government and private donation funded and no one is making a police report that tina fey told a baldwin brother she wanted to taste his balls on television.

the only coverage is about a product, and a fringe group that is calling for a boycott no one is going to engage in. a news outlet is then publishing that as news, which gives added coverage to itself and the product. the real result will be for people who haven't watched SNL at midnight on saturday since belushi left will now go out and buy a product they would never have noticed. exposure drives the economy, and humor helps drive that exposure. having semi-stars make fun of a radio network my daughter gets a headache from listening to is not news until someone without a sense of humor makes an issue of it for them.

what is it that i miss about the US? it could be the lack of censorship, definitely the lack of ISA and RELA, but really what i miss is a sense of humor. in the US they get to laugh at the skit, at the ice cream, at the repressed moms for the press release and at the NPR for picking up the story. i asked a few malaysians around me to try to pronounce the title, they looked shyly away and said "i don't know". come on, you need to try say it, its all about the

schweddy balls.

small world

after breakfast today i went for a walk on the beach. the waves here crest quickly and break close to the shore. there are strong tides and the beach is marked with the red flag that warns that it is closed for swimming. as i looked down the beach there were a few people bobbing in the waves on the miles long beach, but it was otherwise nearly deserted. i thought about the european sailors who would have seen this beach for the first time from their boats. how could they have seen this and not swam ashore to stay and frolic in the waves? maybe because they had seen so many other beautiful beaches ... okay, but why would they ever go back to england?

i have used the word paradise a few times in this blog, and there really are places in the world that are as close to paradise and one could get. but if you needed to go out and find a place to live, where would it be? as i sit under palm trees and listen to the waves coming ashore, washed in warm tropical sun, i wonder why anyone would select a location that involves the harshness of my childhood winters. i remember making angels in the snow, but i also remember falling on my aching ass because i did not break the ice on the stairs when my father asked. we are not really made to live in those conditions, being iced is not a good thing.

the selection process had to be easier when the bounty sailors looked ashore to tahiti. an open culture, an established trading system for necessities, chiefs who welcomed the ferengi ashore and offered them land and status to stay. but the modern world is more difficult. travel is fast, and information travels faster. we can watch the events of a far off situation unfold from nearly anywhere in the world. the world is smaller, with more options.

as you look over the world, where would you pick to live? bali is nice, but has no economy beyond tourism; with crazy traffic on anything including a motorcycle. amsterdam is nice, love bicycles, but needing to speak anymore dutch than i do would hurt. goa sounds nice, european influence and a desire to not be called indian, but i would spend all my time searching for the bridge that marie died on.

i don't have an issue working on my spanish, but don't really want to learn portuguese, i have had my fill of fringe languages. finding somewhere with english as a common language would be great in fact.

i prefer it socially relaxed, there has to be no issue with alcohol and pork; in fact a strong beer culture with tasty IPAs would be great. a cosmopolitan environment, that looks beyond color and orientation is a must in fact. it must have a newport-quality arts culture, so i can walk into galleries to poke around between the beach and coffee in a cafe. the closest i can come up with is bondi beach. the beach is nice, i would love to join that lifeguard club on the west point (the first official live saving club in the world), book, record and surf shops and great food all around; relaxed people playing between the flags.

there is also something i like about living in a place that was established as a penal colony, and that was a favorite destination for troubled irish to be deported by our engles overseers. the downside is cost of living, it feels like the overseas alternative to moving to venice beach. but venice has native burrito shops and quality medical care easily available, while NSW is still sadly behind the times in modern beach side comforts.

i was thinking about a house somewhere in baha california. buy a piece of beach, put up a doublewide and have a boat to take tourists out during the season. i have never been a fisherman, but i used to row so the other guys could catch off the "ship of fools", this would be the late-adult version of that. good weather, spanish and english, slow paced. it all sounds good, but how do i get back here and see the andaman sea again? how do i get back to bali and visit my ubud auntie friend who sells me batiks. she smiles as soon as i walk up, and gives me a hug. can i decide to leave that behind?

it's too early to come up with a retirement plan. i should just go back to the villa and read my book on born liars. the book talks about how lying helped drive the explosive evolution of humans over our cousin primates. it argues that we needed to learn to lie to compete in ever larger social groups. humans are known to have evolved to live in groups of 150, and later into villages of 1,500, this is significantly larger than the other higher apes groupings. lying helped us do it, driving our need for larger brains and the ability to project ahead.

but our world is much larger now. we have so many options, to travel, to meet and know others, to experience cultures. i am watching the sun drop towards the horizon, and i am so glad i am here. this trip was taken because i missed the US and needed a break, but if i said i was ready for a change and knew how to make it with a perfect choice... i would be lying.

if asked right now, i would think of cousin avi and say, "yeah, don't go to england"

slow train

i am so relaxed. i am away, and i have absolutely nothing to complain about. i am laying on a rounded couch, under a roof. there is music playing, i can hear the waves from the andaman sea coming ashore. the day is slow and easy. i am at sala resort phuket, quietly tucked onto the near deserted beach; and far-far removed from the patong craziness further down the island.

the draw of this resort is three fold, pool suites with a literal wall of privacy, beautifully quiet surroundings and an american chef who serves begniets and sublime american pancakes for breakfast. add to this quesadillas lacking the metallic anti-taste of malaysian beef, or the heaven sent chorizo version which was not on the menu but was easily made on request, and you will understand that this is a get away that helps me go home. it has none of the KL tightness, the price is what you would pay in the west for a comprable resort -- and the staff and service reflects it.

three weeks ago was the "malaya day" holiday, it happens to fall dangerously close to my birthday, and the desire to balik antarabangsa felt like the sweaty cravings of an addict. but i had just come back for a tranquil family retreat in bali and thought another trip would be indulgent. i chose to follow the lead of saint augustine and deny the urge for pleasure. i remain within the counter-pleasure city, reminded of the the settlers who stayed next to the muddy river. KL once again taught me that it's lack of quality and style are not a mistake, it's cultural and by design. it must be, why else would it be so sadly consistent.

my birthday gift, a compromise, like giving methadone to dull the craving, was to check into sunway villas, which promised villa suites with pools and private walls, there is the KL version of a beach near by and there was the promise of "american" pancakes to wake up to. along with this was the addition of a steak dinner at the cities highest rated beef kitchen. i loved the presents, because they were given with love, but they were also like a toy that breaks the first time you use it. the disappointment is not with the giver, but with the lack of value in the producer.

the sunway villas were jammed between other buildings, stacked onto a hill, where vans were needed to crawl up the hill but were too large for the tracks built for buggies later proved to underpowered for guests and baggage. the sunway resort beach was close enough to see, which also meant the sound of waterpark entertainment was constant. but the most lacking element was the "pool" which was ten foot square and only three feet deep. too small for a proper plunge, and completely impossible to enjoy a swim for two. add to this under-trained staff and the theft of the credit card account, later used to purchase internet video games, and the overall experience was more one of guilt for lacking cost benefit. we will not even go into the USD 200++ steak that was good, but far from what i thought i was ordering; or the pancakes that were as american as the honey they tied to pass off as maple syrup -- twice.

so, here we are. we decided on the trip at the last minute, because i was told i needed to get out of town. it was somewhat of a ... take a break and reset after a couple of stressful weeks. this is a place that we knew we would enjoy, and was the compromise to my "i need to be in the US, i need a taco, let's go to LA next week... okay too far, what about hawaii?". the food, the alcohol, the waves, the walls, the pool, the irish coffees before bed and the massage hut for 400 baht (USD 13) all sounded so right.

the upside is that it has been better than expected. i was having steak and eggs for breakfast this morning. the coffee and beignets before had been wonderful, and the special request to replace the fried egg with a small portion of the chorizo scrambled eggs and a side of the black pudding was met with a "thank you ka". they delivered the smoothies which were the suggested drinks for the day, and a flood of memory came over me. the banana-strawberry lassie tasted exactly like my first favorite alcohol drink, brick alley pub's slow train to mazatlan, i just needed to get them to add peach brandy and light and dark tum. could it be true, could i take this comfort weekend to the next level by getting back on the train to home?

it was a very fast negotiation, jame the bartender and i worked out the mix, found a pitcher, struck a price for my ticket and within 10 minutes i was transported back with a properly tasting drink to go with my yummy breakfast steak (built into the room rate no less). this weekend might have been indulgent, but it was also exactly what i needed. being in KL can be beyond frustrating, with very limited exceptions you see things half done with no recognition or embarrassment for the lack of success. you live with an eye to the day when the quality that you need to remain and be happy will be replaced with a crappy substitue jammed next to a noisy waterpark.

if this is a drug, and i am an addict, i am okay with it. because it feels good, and the majority of the peninsular pleasures are not able to strike the chords of pleasure. this is why people work, why i stay, because i get to feel the quality that comes with it. it's the wonderful things that standout and shine, those that you get to enjoy just being around that make the difference.

happy hour is not for two more hours, but i am already there. i am on a slow train and i am feeling good.

missing options

a month ago i was on an island paradise, walking in the jungle, trying to work my way down the terraced hillside to see the river at the bottom of the valley. the manager of the resort had told us that the two local rivers came together a bit down stream and the male and female flows come together as one. he said this was a sacred place, because of the combined energy. i didn't know if the river below was male or female, and i wondered if i would be able tell when i saw it.

as i walked through the trees, there was an erie calm. this was real jungle, and i really had no reason to be out here. but i was in paradise, staying in a resort with all the amenities expected to accompany private villas, and here i was tromping along in running shoes and cargo shorts. walking through the jungle is not as easy as it looks. vines reach for your feet with each step, and the idea that a snake is underfoot never really goes away. focus needs to be kept down and forward, not natural for someone conditioned to looking up and scanning the horizon for coming issues.

i wondered how much harder this would be in a truly dangerous environment. i had gotten here by walking down a flight of stairs and past some tiki poles. i imaged other americans taking flights to jungles in asia, and being sent out to walk in the jungle near rice padis. in their case punji sticks were the wood carvings along the way. i took a beat and looked around, a beautiful valley with gender-ambiguous river below and smoke in the air.

the smoke was coming from a small hut in the woods ahead. the hut had a fire burning, and when i got closer i saw a woman sitting over the flames burning a pile of branches. rather than just passing, i went over to take a picture, we had a conversation in broken-bahasa and i learned she was there to keep the jungle clear. she burned some of what she cut, and feed the rest to pigs back in her village. as we spoke, i realized there were few guests at this zen resort who ever met this hidden member of the staff.

a month later, i keep flashing back to this encounter. as i go through my day, i wonder if she is there cutting and burning the jungle into submission. talk about a job that never ends, the jungle never stops growing. i wonder about her years before, making choices on career day. did she sit down and think, i want to work in the jungle and almost never talk to anyone? are there annual reviews with this role? does she have KPI that are measured with smart criteria?

this is clearly a career that comes from narrow options. i have been to this paradise before, there is work out there for someone who is mobile, has language skills and is willing to interact with visitors. this is probably true almost anywhere. if you are willing to move, can communicate and are willing to work, you have options. not having options... maybe that comes from inside. do we take options off the table because we do not want the choice?

my boss reminded me yesterday that i have a pretty good life. i was standing on my expat-balcony overlooking the swimming pool, the sun was shining and i was headed into work so i could run on the treadmill i have inside my office. things are pretty good, even with cobras next to my car, the literal rats-nest in the air-con over my desk and the strange costs of living here. i have to admit that most of the time i am very happy, even if i am missing opportunities.

i would like to be back in the US. i would like to drive down to venice beach, have a burrito and watch the performers. i would love to go to newport beach and eat dinner at flo's; maybe pj would show up and we could have a beer over clams. but what really makes me happy is that i have options. i look forward to finding a loft and being part of the gentrification of a less than perfect part of town; it will still be nicer than KL. i can do these things, or almost anything else i want. some options would take a visa, others i could just go and do. but not today, today i am just happy being busy and watching the growth around me.

some days might feel like i am cutting back a jungle, or avoiding punji sticks, but then i remember that a quick walk up the hill and i get to kick off those shorts and hop into the pool. taking a swim in the middle of the day is an option that most people do not have, but i have learned that if i focus i can. the best part is that there are people who i can swim with, or who will pass me a towel when i climb out.

having the pool is good, but sharing the swim is the real fun.

calling celibacy

people talk about the one that got away. that person that could have made them whole, could have brought happiness to their lives and given them the contentment they so deeply crave. i understand this, because we are our choices. what we experience in life is a direct result of the decisions we make the the directions we take. life is good if you allow it, but some people continue to carry regrets. someone just said, "we do what we are", and that made me think about a career choice i didn't make.

i went to college in a catholic school. a major part of the initial curriculum, were the religion/philosophy class requirements. the overall core was comprised of three philosophy, three theology, four humanities (code for religion-philosophy); with added english, foreign language and art credits. these are clearly all the skills needed for a teacher to coach american football, to helo-cast US marines into combat or to manage a software-engineering team. reading homer, cervantes and machiavelli were good, but not directly applicable to what i do now; machiavelli does have its lessons.

i remember a night during my freshman year, reading in the dorm, when i was presented with a choice. i was reading about saint augustine and the situations of desire that were presented to highlight his begotten youth were familiar. anyone who had been in the van from the beach to the fenway, with the side trip to boston's combat-zone, could envision what the father of celibacy had experienced. being brought up catholic was just enough to feel the guilt and want to escape the pleasures.

this was the moment when it happened. for the first time i considered joining the priesthood. this was the moment of "calling" that i had been warned of, a gift that i was expected to embrace. i was being given a vocation, i was being invited into the fold. it felt as though i being called up from double-A ball and was being given a shot at the show; a very long shot with my arm. a chance was presenting itself that i had never considered, that i never thought i would be allowed. i had avoided all the predecessor conditioning steps, while my best friends were ringing the bells at mass, i was still on the beach and here i was, getting the nod.

i took a breath and considered it; rather than be overcome with the chance, i did the math. i was at a benedictine school, i didn't see myself as a parrish priest, but i felt more like a dominican (a hound of god), than living the "ordered life" of a benedictine. would i need to live the monastic life? what if the abbot role was filled, would i need to travel to move up? celibacy, was that complete or was there a hall-pass available? could i still have children? maybe the eastern orthodox church had more flexibility, but those robes and hats....

the entire process took no more than a minute or two, and i passed. augustine made his case, but i had always thought it went a little to far. a few days later while talking to the future abbot of the local order, i told him i had received an offer but had passed. i asked what he thought, he was unable to stifle the laugh that escaped. brother was a sensible man, and is trusted by the order to lead now, so i am sure i made the right choice. but since there have been times, when i wonder.

i look good in black, i have the ability to enforce rules that i do not agree with and i feel the best when helping someone through a situation. the fact that i get bored and go out and find projects to keep myself occupied, especially ones that don't focus on the party line, could be an issue. my libertarian hedonism and agnosticism could be another. but times are tough, maybe there is room for us both to reconsider this. i am too old to join the military, and i heard someone in his 60s became a priest. so there is time, but some of the rules will need to be bent; i come with a personal angel.

if you are really serious, you can call me again and we can discuss the specifics.