Waterless and Queer

Phew, it's been a terribly full few days.

I live with my folks still (hey, I'm not so old yet), in the basement of our house. Well, actually, our basement has two levels: topographically, one half is on top of the other. On the upper half is my room, the downstairs washroom and the "computer room".

The pipe under the sink of the downstairs washroom broke.

I woke up Wednesday morning to the sound like the upstairs shower was on or the toilet was flushing; and my parents yelling things to eachother. Water had leaked from the washroom, into my room, the computer room and even the basement. We managed to turn the water, so that no more water leaked through; but it took a while to clean up the rest; and since we turned off our water, we wouldn't be able to use the water until we turned it on again.

So, we've been waterless for a few days.



I'm not straight.

I've known I liked women for some time now. I think I first noticed in highschool Art class, because I paid the same kinds of attention to the female figure as the male figure (which some people found a little odd); and I've always been a little gender-queer. I guess last year, 2006, was the first time I did anything about it (I joined the LGBTT* student group at university).

I also came out to my close friends; and, only this month, my pastor at church.

He disappointed me a little; because either he really just doesn't have the words or experience to articulate what he means, or he really is just close-minded. It would break my heart if he turned out to be so "typical" a church leader as to have a closed-mind.

The same day I came out to him, his wife had asked that, if I ever needed "someone older--but not too much older!" to speak to, like a mentor, then we should go out for coffee or something sometime and talk. And then, later that day, I came out to her husband, the pastor. He asked me how old I was, and it felt like hew as leafing through a textbook. "Oh, well, you know, sometimes--and I don't mean to, ah, ah, categorize you, but--sometimes, teenagers have this, ah, sort of, a sexual confusion." And before he left, he asked if he could pray for me (I said sure, and it wasn't quite as disappointing as I'd feared).

This past Sunday, the pastor bumped into me again for the first time since I'd come out to him. I was reading Oscar Wilde collection I'd recently bought, because I had about four hours to kill before work that day. The pastor sat down beside me and said, "Oh, you like Oscar Wilde?" It sounded more like, "I didn't know gays liked Oscar Wilde! Was he gay? I didn't think he was gay!"

Then, he asked if I'd like to get together with him to "talk further about, ah, that." I said sure. I also wanted to ask if his wife would be there, too, since she'd offered the same thing (less specifically) before him (and I'm worried he'll still be disappointing); but I had the feeling that he'd be scared I'd hit on his wife or something, so I didn't ask.

We're getting together tomorrow around lunchtime. I don't know quite how I feel. Mostly I have this feeling I'm going to be inarticulate and let down, either by my disarticulation-ness or by his lack of...something, understanding.

I pray it goes well...
--Charissa