The US and my father's wedding, as per Danny's request.

I came back to the US for my father's wedding.  You know, the wedding that made me feel like I could no longer feel my fingers.  This has been an emotional tsunami (thanks, Skeletor, for the everlasting inside joke) for my sister and me.  Well, more for my sister than for me.  Because I'm not so much with the "emotions" or "expression."

The last time I was here, February, my father didn't talk to me.  At all.  This time was no different. I would like to say his reaction was my fault (you know, because I like to blame myself for a lot of things), but it wasn't. His reaction was simply an extension of his personality. Roger has made it impossible for me to relate to him. There are so many similarities between the two of us: I have 7 books on my bedside, and one in my bed; I feel guilty for things I can't control; I will always take care of those I care about, if they need it; I'm selfish; I'm really scared.

However, I'm quite different, in that I'm completely available to an entirely different clientele.  I will always be there for my sister, but never for some "former church member."  I have one, very small family.  That family resides in my head and in my heart.  That family has proven itself to me, in weird, incomprehensible ways. If you don't know who you are, you wouldn't be reading this.

I believe that our baselessness reveals our divinity, and not the other way around; I think the best times I can ever have are with friends at a bar, on a Sunday afternoon, watching football and drinking too much; my personality can no longer be changed based on those whom I'm surrounded by; and the most important difference: No one has relevance to my life unless I allow it. 

The Beauty of Upstate...really Upstate...NY:

I can't speak of hijabs and kenduras, the burkha or the sharia law...because I can't understand it well enough to explain it to you.  I can only speak of deserts and hatred.  If you knew what I thought of a simple raindrop, or of an oak leaf fluttering to the ground, or how sorry I was that someone cried when I left...

Can you struggle with something you know isn't there?

Angels.  Numbers.  Someone else's approval?

Can you abdicate?

Your title.  Your relationship. Your failure?

Can you bother?

A new nephew. A slight tax burden.  A foreign girlfriend?

Can you be forgiven?

For faults.  For insensitivity.  For fear?

Can you love?

Yes.

But I want forgiveness first.