Today I feel warmth in my chest and on my face, because I feel the pleasure of a new emotional connection.

That is both good news and bad news.

Good news, because I had almost forgotten what it feels like. It's absolutely wonderful, and I find it far more interesting than lust or limerence because it does not tax the body or the mind by draining the energy out of it. I like to remember that this good stuff makes human bond together and societies hold. I like to remember that it has happened before, as my friends are coming to visit me for New Year's eve and now I will doubleplus thank them for being my friends.

Bad news, because I had almost forgotten what it feels like. Which means that I do not find many occasions to have it happen. Or maybe I do not hang out with the right people. Whatever. Now I want more of it and I do not really know what to do.

Hence another resolution for 2007: hang out with more people and see the good in all of them, to connect more often.

When I stumbled across this piece of politically incorrect art about the close relationship between religion and economics (reminds me of the one between religion and football) I felt amused at first, then scared about how obvious the link is and how very few people do actually notice.

And then I found a possibly explanation: many people do notice, but they do not care. Or sometimes, they do, but only to see the good side of it. There is a lot of money to be made, and religion is providing quite a few of them.

It was interesting to discover today an interesting example that this explanation might have something true about it. Even if it hasn't, I love the schadenfreude of imagining what the site makers think about their potential customers.

This is an update to another post created in another life.

Here it goes:

(Thanks to SP Studio for the generation)

The main reason behind my receiving my mother and brother at home for the two Christmas days was to take a point across to myself (first) and to my family (next).

It has to do, of course, with emancipation. I needed to make a statement, make it clear that the place I call “home” is now the place I am living in and not anywhere else. That I am fully able to be in charge and host an elaborate family event. And allowing them to peek around freely at the various queer items laying around my place was part of the story, too.

And all went well, much too well.

They made me feel that I was doing well, but exactly as good as they were expecting me to do. And I knew it. I did my best for the event, knowing in advance that it was expected, would be “appreciated” but would not create any feeling that I was treating them in a special way.

When I think about it, I see either that I was raised with insanely high standards of making other people feel at ease without them even noticing, or that my family was totally insensitive, as if we had no ability to be positively surprised, or acknowledge with genuine gratitude as special token of attention.

Either way, it is quite a disaster for my mood and my ego, and a serious drawback in my social life. I come to be very careful with all guests, whether I like or dislike them, and provide a level of attention and service usually unexpected from them; although it is totally "natural" and un-exceptional for me.

I've been explained once that if I was a woman fifty years ago, I would be considered “ideal wedding material.”

But!

The first issue with this situation, now, is that I have absolutely no idea of how to make someone who is special to me, feel special with me.

The various attitudes displayed by other people, used for seduction purposes and considered as “attentive” or “caring,” strike me as totally obvious and common. I do that all the time, and not for seduction — so then, if I want to do “more,” what's left? Besides, I tend to show very publicly that this behavior is automatic for me; with time, people who become closer to me get used to it and their expectations raise, too.

The other issue with this situation is that I become gradually “out of reach” for the other way around. This behavior of mine tends to make people believe that I also have high expectations, that I need a lot of display of attention and care to become impressed and notice. Although it is not true (I am really easily impressed) it comes through this way quite often because I tend to keep my feelings for myself — another habit carefully learned from the family environment.

Hence comes another resolution for 2007: actually show that I am happy instead of keeping it for myself.

In an online news report I can read today how the traditional practice of firing a cannon during american football games in Snohomish, USA has cost a boy's leg due to the cannon exploding.

The un-funny part of the article is that members of the community are threatening the boy and his family against investigating the cause-to-effect relationship between the cannon and his maimed leg; for the tradition is so important for them that they would rather have the boy's other leg maimed than be prevented from firing the cannon again.

Not only I'm disgusted, but I can't help thinking that this kind of situation would never happen in any of the kingdoms of mainland Europe.

Imagine…

Imagine three young guys in a museum, singing their faith for christian places:

They have everything for young men to enjoy,
You can hang out with all the boys ...

And then…

Honestly, I love this picture. On the other hand, I can't help thinking that there are places where this kind of public display could get you into serious troubles.

Some days I look at women, shake all context and past experience out of my mind, and look at my feelings.

Then I realize that nothing prevents me from loving, sharing intimacy, having sex, support and live with one. My closest friend is female; the colleagues I go along better with are female; I find the female body beautiful, and I actually take pleasure at admiring females in art and around me. Some people have even told me I would be the perfect lover: I like to and know how to take care of a household; I can create and animate conversations; and I have demonstrated an ability to handle and educate children. I actually feel proud that many women like me.

And yet, I'm still not married and never been into a relationship with a woman. And I'm over 25!

I could, and I'm not.

I feel sometimes sub-human. Like I “miss” a feature all humans should have, even for basic reproductory purposes. I am just totally not attracted. No tingle spreading for voluptuous lips or gorgeous breasts. No out-of-the-ordinary interest for curious or brilliant female intellects. Absolutely no feeling when witnessing intimacy between males and females, or females and females. None. Nada.

And yet, I know how it feels. I have been branded several times by intense attraction at first sight, and I remember it so well that I'm still shaking of the memory. In fact, I know very well what I like and what makes the warmth spread from my heart to the rest of the body.

I do find it difficult to feel different. Especially the part about living with other people who are not this way and still be confortable. But I would give it up for nothing.

As would Shakespeare state it:

To be or not to be, that is the question —
Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing, end them. To die, to sleep —
No more; and by a sleep to say we end
The heart-ache and the thousand natural shocks
That flesh is heir to — 'tis a consummation
Devoutly to be wish'd. To die, to sleep —
To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come,
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause. There's the respect
That makes calamity of so long life,
For who would bear the whips and scorns of time,
Th'oppressor's wrong, the proud man's contumely,
The pangs of despised love, the law's delay,
The insolence of office, and the spurns
That patient merit of th'unworthy takes,
When he himself might his quietus make
With a bare bodkin? who would fardels bear,
To grunt and sweat under a weary life,
But that the dread of something after death,
The undiscovered country from whose bourn
No traveller returns, puzzles the will,
And makes us rather bear those ills we have
Than fly to others that we know not of?
Thus conscience does make cowards of us all,
And thus the native hue of resolution
Is sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought,
And enterprises of great pitch and moment
With this regard their currents turn awry,
And lose the name of action.

That said, the acute reader could observe that some words are missing from this entry. I am actually having an vocabulary issue about it, which is beautifully explained by someone who shares the same concern.

Activity on the workplace has been quite hectic for the last few months. Increase in work load, decrease in business, environment changes piling up one over another, conflicts, political dances, uncertainty… Although I could handle everything until now, I was spared nothing.

Yesterday I felt that I reached my limits. I was stressed when I went to sleep, for the first time since my arrival in February. I had a few nightmares. I was angry when I woke up.

One of my projects for the day was to skip work pretending to feel unwell, to remind my supervisors that my technical skills should not exempt them from paying all due respect to my well-being. To explain them that the situation they let me put myself in is precisely the kind of situation I have been running away from multiple times in the past. I felt as if “they” put me in a position where I was not meeting expectations and not knowing how to perform better. I felt betrayed in my trust in our relationship.

But then I blinked my eyes and I was enlightened.

I realized that I would achieve far more interesting results by trying to state my concerns and work a solution with “them,” instead of running away from the situation. Because I feel I now have the power to change my surroundings and make people adapt, instead of the other way around. Decide to be part of the flow and work to shift it where I want to go, and not fight against or get out of it.

This is a huge personal achievement! My first of the kind in a lifetime.

Now I'm relieved. The pressure is still there, but the stress has disappeared.

I guess that feels like growing up. What a life.

This week-end I decided to put my new website online. I had been preparing it for several weeks already, and there was where I was keeping this blog up-to-date.

After finding this beautiful skin from PyBOOM and designing a new logo myself yesterday (thanks to InkScape and The GIMP) I just felt it would be a nice touch for the week-end to make this work — at last — public.

It was a lot more work than I expected. Since my former hosting service, Zettai is currently going out of business and the future one, High Speed Rails has not yet enabled my account, I had to redistribute the different services across multiple service providers: Fastmail, FreeDNS, and a temporary web server courtesy of my friend from Z0pe.org.

The tricky part was to set up all the redirection rules for those various parts of my former site which have now a new home here. I hope I did not forget anything...

Whatever; it's not like I have so many visitors anyway.

There were two guests at my place this week.

Hosting guests is one of the activities that help me keep care of my home.

There was a time when the mess would only be cleared when someone visited me. A reflex due to a contrast between the carelessness of youth and a deeply ingrained respect for the comfort of visitors. A principle acquired from my mum says that receiving someone properly goes necessarily through making every effort possible to make them feel home, and that is now part of my life.

Then it happened that I grew up (a bit). I started to realize the truth behind the age-old French saying: “charité bien ordonnée commence par soi-même,” and that the way to build the feeling of being at home for myself would go through making the kind of efforts I deploy for guests, for myself.

That was the moment when vacuum-cleaning, dish washing, mopping, laundry and disposing of the cat's litter became pleasurable (sometimes even fun), instead of a necessary chore to avoid as long and as often as possible. That was also the moment when I started actually caring about home decoration in shops in all places I visit. After that I would choose my furniture not only for practical aspects but also for the overall harmony they would bring at the place it would be eventually fitted. And so on; the list is long.

Oddly enough, it coincides more-or-less with my settling in Rotterdam. (ok, not that odd, but the coincidence is part of another story.)

But this is not a happy-ending story. I sometimes lose sight of the feeling of being at home when it becomes part of the invisible world of the daily routine.

Then come guests. Those people I like being with, for which I would just do the little extra that I can share with them and of which I know that it would make myself happy if it was reciprocated. Like preparing breakfast in the morning, or setting up beds in advance, and so on.

And doing so breaks the routine and brings the feeling of being at home back into sight.