supreme

It was a fairly interesting weekend, and most of it good. Saturday I almost felt normal. Partly due to the gorgeous weather, part to hours at the coffee shop, part to friends. It was wonderful. I almost felt like me. Of course, I paid the price for that yesterday, by thing rushing back like a torrent, but still, Saturday was great.
I went one of my married (straight) couple’s home for dinner. They had me and three of my best gays. The dinner was delicious. The house was almost my ideal—a little more Victorian than Craftsman, but still great. The company sublime. The conversation very. . . entertaining. After many topics, and after three bottles of wine (not me, although I did have two martinis—they had bleu cheese olives, come on!), the conversation turned to politics and the last election. Most of the time, I don’t speak up about politics. I don’t understand enough, and my views are so broad they don’t really fit anywhere. Two of the gays were stanch Republicans. One of the gays seems to be more all over the place like me, as was the wife. The husband was very liberal. (The dynamics of this were fun, simply because, to an outsider, the roles would not be as they would have been expected to be.) Most of the time, I just listened. I honestly enjoy that more anyway. However, the husband, somehow, got on the subject of respect for the president’s title and job. He was speaking of how no matter what, it comes down to that the president (not just Obama, but any president) is there because he loves his country and simply wants to serve and help. I started to speak up, but then thought better of it, reminding myself that I don’t have to spread my negative jadedness. However, someone noticed that I had started to speak and asked me what I thought. So, I told them. You’ve heard it here before—that I don’t think all presidents are there for the pure good of the country. That for a lot, most, or all, they are there for status, prestige, and because it was their career path. Tying into another conversation we’d had that night, I also said I don’t think you have to respect the president just because he is president—akin to positions such as pastor, teacher, etc. There were near fights (not really, but very heated) by the end of the night—and not with me, but just with that point of view, which another friend believes as well, but he is much more verbal and well-spoken than I. It was so interesting how vehemently offensive this thought was. Especially to the liberal, which also surprised me. Maybe, since I question God so much, His intention, love, and true capability, questioning the president and not giving automatic deference is pretty tame. (On a side note, one that I brought up at the dinner, I’ve noticed that in publications, such as The New York Times, the president is referred to at Mr. Obama, not President Obama. I find this rather shocking and almost an intentional slight [although, I doubt that is really how it is meant]. Of course, I rather like this. I makes our president human (Obama or not) and less god-like.
I also went to church yesterday. The sermon amazing, my tears real. The song service mind-numbing in its meaningless drivel that surely had God gagging. (Except for one song that said, ‘I want more of you, less of the religion of man.’ That song I could sing and not feel like a hypocrite.) Anyway, the reason I tell you this is as follows: During the song service, my friend (yes, I actually sat with people yesterday) nudged me and motioned to the row in front of us. I had to squint to understand what I was seeing. Sure enough, the older lady in front of us had a huge curling iron atop her list of church supplies. For some reason this cracked me up. That sad thing was that this poor woman’s hair was the limpest drudgery you’ve ever seen. I was tempted to save both of us from the song service, rush to the bathroom, and do an emergency makeover.