Then I got a message on the staff LGBT listserv that donations to the No on 8 campaign were being doubled today. I'd not given money yet as I'm very concerned about my finances since I won't have any income for awhile after this month, but knowing how important the issue is, I talked to boyziggy and we decided to make a $250 donation. I felt good about this.
I felt less good about getting a message on the same list later saying that a pediatrician at UCSF is a supporter of the Yes on 8 campaign and in fact co-authored the statement for it in the ballot pamphlet. This revelation created a minor furor on the list. Apparently she's affiliated with the misleadingly-named American College of Pediatricians which believes that children need to have a "basic father-mother family unit" for "optimal development". I thought about writing a letter as others had done, but didn't want to single out a specific person, and really wasn't sure how to phrase my thoughts. At least I've donated so those more eloquent than myself can make their voices heard.
Sometime in between these messages, I got the word from my high school friend hopita's journal that a mutual classmate had been arrested for soliciting sex from a 14-year-old. Reading this turned my stomach, though little this man has or is capable of doing surprises me. I gave him the benefit of the doubt when I was younger, but later realized that he really was the smug, self-interested bastard that everyone said he was. My high school friends and I laughed at the news stories of his illegally-owned African serval cat escaping several years ago; this latest brush with the law is obviously much more serious, and completely unforgivable.
So tonight I wanted to relax with my guilty-pleasure TV show, The Biggest Loser (which makes me literally ill at times; I watch it the way some people gawk at accidents*), but I knew I really needed to practice the bass. I decided to attempt both at once, plugging into the crappy amp in the living room, which worked out all right. For the last week I really dreaded even the idea of putting my fingers on the strings of my bass. I was so anxious and depressed about work and money issues, I didn't feel like I could get pleasure out of anything that took any amount of effort. But bouncing Super Mario off of virtual walls wasn't really that easy either, and I figured making music would be more fulfilling. I played some scales, major and minor, and played and sang through most of the songs I'd already worked on, using the metronome. I still have to finish my arrangement of God Bless the Child, which Steve assigned at my last lesson. I'd greatly enjoyed singing this Billie Holiday tune in the past, but am concentrating just on the bass part for now. Steve said that after I do ten or so of these bass arrangements, I should be able to improvise to future songs more spontaneously; I hope this is the case.
Finally, today I had the interesting experience of being literally nauseated by food that normally would be very appealing to me. A co-worker had a little birthday party with a very rich chocolate cake. I had already had a vegan (but fattening) chocolate cupcake that boyziggy had made last night, but was still hungry after lunch, or thought I was. The cake really gave me a stomachache; I couldn't even finish the average-sized slice I had. On The Biggest Loser tonight they showed piles of brownies, donuts, and candy, and just looking at them nauseated me further. Granted, my appetite has been diminished in general with all the anxiety of the last couple of months, so I'm not assuming that this signals any huge change, but it is welcome nonetheless.
*Edit: I should clarify that it's not looking at the contestants that makes me sick, it's the poor weight-loss advice and crass commercial placement on the show. I wrote more extensively about some of the things that bother me about this reality program in this earlier entry and comments.