My "free will astrology" today contained good advice for any week, I think: "Don't obsess on your crazy-making dilemma. Instead, concentrate on skillfully doing the pleasureable activities that you do best. Be resolutely faithful to your higher mission and feed your lust for life. Slowly but surely, I think you'll find that the frustrating impediment will be drained of at least some of its power to lock up your energy." Thank you, Rob Brezsny.

Also, I was walking down the street arm-in-arm with Mr. R today (who visited me at work & took me out for coffee) and some random girl on the street just smiled and said, "You two look great together." Ha! I have been complimented more by strangers during the 4-ish years I've lived in Portland than in the rest of my entire life. I love this city.

In other news, I'm writing a short story for submission soon. It involves being a missionary in Portland. If it's ever published, I'll post a link! #fingerscrossed

Shame Patrol

BYU student scandals in the age of Facebook & Twitter are so much more fun than when they were contained to rants in The Daily Universe (yes, that is the real name of the student newspaper). Now the whole world knows what a shame-fest it is to be a female on the campuses of "The Lord's University."

Exhibit A: This BYU student posted her experience on Facebook & her Twitter account that a guy approached her with what she thought was a Valentine's day note (it was Feb 14th, after all) and instead it was this passive-aggressive shaming missive. (See below, or click on the link to read the text.)

Possibly my favorite part was when he made it sound as though he was physically endangered by her outfit. Um, I think he was in WAY more physical jeopardy after writing that note.

Anyway, it's started a small kerfuffle in Utah media and on Facebook, and I love it. Yay for this type of behavior finally getting called out and for discussions (sort of--you know how comments are) about the fact that shaming this girl was totally out of line. His efforts to secretly shame her are going viral, and I hope that he gets a taste of that shame.

I also feel like this scenario reinforces my earlier rant about how the "I am a Mormon" campaign is duplicitous. This girl would barely be cool enough for one of those campaigns, and yet on campus at "The Lord's University" she's getting shamed. How about an "I'm a Mormon, and I'm Ostracized By Fellow Mormons for Being Different, Unless It Gets Us Positive Media Attention" campaign? Because that would be a hell of a lot closer to the truth.

[Sidenote: I'm sure some would argue that not all guys on BYU campus treat women like they should be wearing burkas, but talk to any Mormon man and ask him about modesty. See whether he puts the responsibility on himself for keeping his thoughts "clean" or if he leans toward blaming the woman. Or just read a recent talk to Young Women.]

Hipster Mormons make me angry. RAWR.

The recent article in the NY Times, “To Be Young, Hip and Mormon” really made me mad, and so I had to start writing to figure out why. I’ve been avoiding the “I’m a Mormon” campaign ads for a while now because they spark this same RAWR of anger. Reading this article, which opens with Brandon Flowers (the lead singer for The Killers) talking about how he is a Mormon, makes me absolutely furious. Like snappy crab, slamming doors, giving strangers dirty looks furious. Part of me check myself—is this my holier-than-thou anger toward the hypocrisy of jack Mormons kicking in? But why would I care?

I think it’s deeper. I think I’m angry because I worked so fucking hard to be perfect—I sacrificed and hated myself and handed years of my life to that church, all the while feeling like I was a rotten sinner who had their own personal silk-lined handbasket to hell. And when I decided to be true to myself and left the church, my world fell apart. Any post- or ex-mormon knows the costs, and they are devastating and hard to describe without sounding exaggerated. But there are costs. Then I see these ads, and here specifically is a dude who’s admitted to drinking and smoking and he’s all, “I’m a Mormon,” like it’s some wicked cool thing to be now, and it’s totes acceptable to not wear garmies and pay 10% tithing and all those other silly things, and I get so angry I could punch something.

But am I just feeling sorry for myself? Like, “Oh, poor me, it’s been so hard to leave the church, wohn wohn wohn….” ß That is my imitation of Charlie Brown’s mom, btw.

Even more frightening is this little part of me that says, “Well, maybe if you would’ve stayed in the church YOU could’ve been one of these hipster reformist Mormons.” And that is the worst thought ever, because it makes everything I’ve gone through feel like a waste of time, or worse, a mistake.

So then I sip my coffee and think a little.

And I conclude that no, I didn’t leave because I wanted to have a hipster lifestyle. I left because the whole thing is built on a lie. But even more, I left because if you really read the doctrine, if you really pay attention to what the leadership is saying and cut through the corporate bullshit, the Mormon church is a controlling, harmful, fear-mongering, anti-diversity institution, no matter what their current PR ads say. And THIS is the key – it is the utter lack of the church’s ability to follow through on its promises (whether they be blessings or acceptance or happiness or peace, all in return for obedience) that broke my faith.

Maybe someday I’ll stop wanting to grab people in those videos and shake them, but for now my anger is still sparking hot enough that it leaves me nauseated. Maybe someday I’ll have the courage to embrace people who find a way to live with the duplicity—to be Mormon and trying to reform the church instead of wanting to just run away (after using a flamethrower on it so no one else gets hurt, either). It’s just not that someday yet.

More in four!

In September of 2007, I moved myself to Portland. Four years later, almost to the day, I'm coordinating the move of my entire office to a new location in Portland. I think this captures the incredible ramp-up of intensity and awesomeness that has happened since my life crashed and I started rebuilding it. (See: beginning of this blog.)

Speaking of crashes, my computer crashed and I'm now typing this on a sexy new MacBook Air! (A purchase which made my credit card balance not-so-sexy.)

Anyway, I was just over at my favorite version of therapy, a.k.a. Postmormon.org, and I read an entry by a 27-year-old female who'd just left the church. In what I hope she takes as friendly (not know-it-all) advice, I typed up the following and am pasting it here as a reminder to myself. Yes, I read my own blog. I'm that kind of narcissist. :0)


[Psst If you're ever curious, my handle on postmormon.org is pell_mell.]

I noticed that you are close to my age (I'm a 29 year old female) and I've totally been in your shoes and still am sometimes. I live in a house of 4 people who are between 26 and 33 and we joke that I'm the resident teenager. It can be extremely frustrating that the church delayed my emotional/social/sexual maturity for so long! Most of the time I try to focus on the fact that it's more exciting for me to do things that are "normal" for other people (i.e. drinking coffee, swearing, wearing "immodest" clothing, being sexually active in a committed relationship, etc.). It took me a while to sort out the legitimate mistakes from regular human behavior, but once I did, I realized that there will almost always be an element of glee associated with my everyday life because I feel like I'm getting away with something. I think only postmos understand this feeling!
 
The darker undertone is, of course, that we have to "come out" to our families. Some of my closest friends are part of the LGBTQ community and their stories are VERY similar to anyone leaving mormonism. Just as coming out of the other closet, leaving our TBM closet is extremely hard to do and different for everyone. Most of my family has reacted better than I expected. Some of them quit talking to me, and although I grieve our relationship, I also realize that (a) it is not my fault, and (b) continuing to associate with people who can't accept me for who I am (especially when I'm happier and more authentic, for God's sake!) is not something I want to maintain anyway. Easier said than done. The good news is that there are plenty of other authentic, friendly people in the world who can become just as valuable as family. 
 
Also, you can "come out" in degrees. I was on the phone with my grandma the other day and mentioned going to a bed and breakfast with my boyfriend. There was an awkward moment of, "Oops, just told Grams that I'm not a virgin" but then I just kept on talking as though everything was normal. She didn't say anything. I find that if I act comfortable with my choices, the TBMs around me have to either just accept it and play along (which they usually do) or make snotty remarks and look like jerks.  :)
 
And of course, I always want to present my life as "perfect" so that they can't pull out their "Oh, bad things are happening to you because you're wicked." Lucky for me, things have been *awesome* since I left the church, so I think I've actually caused some serious cognitive dissonance for some of my TBM friends and family. :) Then again, I'm working my ass off to frame everything in a positive light and life free from "shoulds." I think what I love the most about being a postmo is that I can come on this board and hear real stories about real struggles, instead of trumped up "I'm so blessed!" fakery. UGH. 
 
So, long story short: You're certainly not alone. Things will work out. Glad you're on the dark side, because it is waaaay more fun over here." 


Honestly, if I could go back and write this to myself in 2007, I would. Still, I wouldn't change a moment of this wild ride. Cheers to whatever the next four years bring on!

Adulthood Without A Car: Pros and Cons and Ranting

This entry is mainly to assuage my anxiety about selling my car to my little sister next week and living my life with only a bike, public transportation, and my own two feet.

Let's start with CONS:
(1) I hate (and by hate I mean loathe with the passion of a thousand fiery suns) taking the bus. [See footnote 1.] But the MAX train isn't so bad...
(2) Our new office won't have a locker room, so I'll need to shower at home and then do hair-disaster management at work. Or find a gym. Hmm.
(3) No more last-minute runs to the grocery store or the coast. I'll need to start planning (eeks!) and leaving earlier for things.

Well, that was depressing. Let's move on!

PROS:
(1) I've been biking every day for 3+ years now, so what's the big deal?
(2) Biking will keep me fit (see: Perky ass. Sculpted calves. Shallow? Sure. But damn!)
(3) Saving the environment. Cuz I'm a dirty hippie.
(4) Here's the biggest reason: Saving money! And with money, I can buy a NEW car (i.e. one that isn't moldy, slightly smelly, has a leaky trunk, has a noisy interior and a broken speaker, and tends to bust my keys when I try to unlock it in icy weather)

Savings calculation:
insurance = $350/year (yes my car is hella cheap, and my driving record rocks)
registration & plates = $43/year
gas, at $3.50/gallon, 10-gallon tank, 1 fill/month = $420 per year (this is when I'm biking a lot anyway)
maintenance (oil changes, usually one $350-ish breakdown/year, etc.) = $550/year
$8/day parking downtown (b/c I get lazy a couple times per month) = $250/year

Grand total: $1613/year

And this is the absolute bare minimum. Technically, I could have a few grand saved up in a couple years to put a down payment on a new car, and then I can start paying all this again! Har har. In the meantime, I'm just going to round it up and tell myself "Two grand a year. Two grand a year." as I bike around. Phew. Who knows, maybe this is the start of a beautiful lifestyle?


Footnote 1: I hate the way buses are always late or early; I hate sitting by strangers; I hate the way buses (and often strangers) smell; I hate the way I always feel mildly carsick on a bus. I hate how slow they go and how they make a million little stops. Hell, I even hate them when I'm on my bike and they're cutting me off and hogging up the bike lane and passing too closely. I get the value of public transportation, but I *hate* buses.

Thursday's Child Has Far To Go

I'm feeling pensive tonight, perhaps because there's been a lot of upheaval lately. My mother is finally leaving my stepfather, for real this time (as opposed to the past 2 unsuccessful divorce attempts...). Anyway, she's bought a house and is moving, and I'll be traveling home to help her paint and get settled in. I'll be leaving my car for my little sister and returning by plane. I'll be changing my driver's license to Oregon (finally) and will be using my bike as my only transportation while I save up for a new car. All of the above makes me nervous and anxious, and I think it's important to sit down and realize how far I've come in the not-too-distant past. In the past five years, I have:

-Left the Mormon church
-Graduated from undergrad
-Graduated from a master's program
-Moved 2 states away from anyone I know
-Managed to get into a *real* relationship
-Gained, lost, and maintained friends
-Accepted my own bisexuality
-Lost my virginity
-Become a bike commuter
-Learned to swim laps
-Learned to bartend (and drink. and smoke. oops...)
-Become a coffee snob
-Got a grown-up job!
-Written the 1st (and 2nd, and 3rd) drafts of a book
-Learned so very much: about plants, auto specs, gender politics, feminism, arts administration, nonprofits, cycling, publishing, editing, digital phone systems, sysadmins, wine, and on and on.

I just remember how overwhelmed I was, only 3 years ago, when I arrived in Portland and opened up a weekly, the Mercury, for the first time. The sheer amount of bands, activities, restaurants, and viewpoints was destabilizing. I spent the first two weeks crying in the bathtub every night. And then I walked away from the only person I knew, moved in with strangers, and slept on the floor for the first two nights because I didn't have a bed. I was, quite literally, a refugee.

In essence, these past few years have been packed with so many experiences and changes that I'm barely recognizable to myself some days. And I'm not done yet, by any means. Just pausing to, well, honor the amount of work I've done. That's all.

kwinky dinks

Confession: I'm a very jealous person. So, when I was scrolling through Publishers Marketplace doing my regular check for new titles, I was furious to find that someone is publishing a book about mormon missionaries. Sure, it's fiction, so it's a different beast. But still.

Also, I'm a little suspicious of this book because, as far as I can tell, the author is still a practicing mormon. How anyone can write something remotely literary, to say nothing of honest, about a mission while still practicing the faith is beyond me. My curiosity has been piqued. So, I googled him. Turns out we were both published for the first time in the same literary journal at BYU. Both under pseudonyms, because we were both on staff. My story is here. (The title, pretentiously enough, is French for "to part is to die a little.") "At least," quips a little voice in my head, "his piece sucks in comparison."

But then, he's the one with a book deal. [cue mild panic]

I have to admit, I'm quite pleased that re-reading my piece doesn't cause me to cringe in embarrassment. It's pretty decent, if only for a short run. The trick will be to maintain a comparable level of writing--to avoid getting sloppy and using shallow phrases and bland sentences--for an entire book.

At least the sun is shining, so I can drag my manuscript into the hammock with me and work on my tan lines. :P

Modestly Arrogant

Huh, well, there was a delightful little shitstorm of responses to my previous post. It feels strange having more posts on my "side" than Mormons, Inc., but also incredibly satisfying. The further I get from the church, the more my perception of its power diminishes, and it's a wonderful feeling to realize what a crazy little cult they are. Phew!

Anyway, I found an article about Mormon modesty that articulated (really well, I might add) the reasons why Mormon modesty is actually objectification. Ah, patriarchy. Such a mindf*ck.

In related news, Flavorwire featured an online collection of Lolita covers. I can't decide which is my favorite, but this one was quite clever:

Magic Mormon Underwear

Sometimes I wish I'd kept a pair around just for show and tell. In the meantime, this is the best description I've come across...

Tackling is part of my job description

Setting: Rather fancy-schmancy award ceremony in a large theater.
Dress: Red. Satin. Cleavage. Oh, and fancy earrings.
Time: Evening, the drowsy kind, where I've had two glasses of champagne but am running on adrenaline since I'm standing in front of an audience of about 300.

My boss does the opening announcements, letting everyone know that I'm standing below the stage on the left to help guide winners up the stairs.

Boss: "Please keep your acceptance speeches short. If you don't, Mel will full-body tackle you."

[applause and laughter]

Yup, that's my job!