Sorry I haven’t blogged for the past two days – I meant to, I really did, but on Saturday I couldn’t get moveable type to load, and on Sunday – believe it or not – I fell asleep at 9:30pm. Seriously. I thought I was sick, actually. Unfortunately, falling asleep that early didn’t help because my body woke me up at midnight because nature called. Then, wouldn’tchaknowit, I couldn’t get back to sleep cause I had a horrible stomach ache. Oddly enough, when I did fall back asleep around 6am, my subconscious translated that tummyache into a dream about me being pregnant. How strange is that? The dream was far from making sense – not only did I not look pregnant, but I hadn’t done anything to get pregnant. The dream took place while I was going into labor, and I kept getting frustrated at the hospital because everyone kept asking why the father wasn’t there, and I kept saying, “There is no father!” Man, do I ever feel bad for poor Mary, and I don’t mean that in any blasphemous sense whatsoever.

My nephew Max came over this evening because Jen and Kevin went to an Eddie Izzard show. Thus, we had the pleasure of Max’s company. If you have been reading this blog for a while then you probably know that two years ago I had my left big toe amputated (for an explanation as to why, click here.) Well. Max is now four years old, and for the first time tonight he noticed that I only have nine toes. He and I were playing around in the kitchen, trying to make some more chocolate milk for the boy. In the process of playing, I kind of held him upside down so that he was looking straight down at the floor. We’ve done this millions of times, and yet this was the first time he realized that my feet were different from his.


He sat down on the floor, facing my feet, and asked why I didn’t have a toe. I tried to tell him the truth, that my toe was sick and needed to go away. But he just didn’t get it, and it was starting to bother him. I realized that he was just too young and sensitive to really get it without traumatizing him, so I tried to sluff it off. In order to do so, I told him that I was a superhero and my super-power is the Super Invisible Toe! It’s invisible, it can pass through solid matter, and it has many super secret abilities. Max understood that just fine without having to ask anymore, “aaa-why?”s. He understood it, but he was still fascinated. He tried to grab the invisible toe, he tried to chase it, and all through dinner he kept sneaking under the table to try and spot it reappearing. He was intrigued by the idea that his Aunt had a super-power! One day I’m sure he’ll forget all about the Super Invisible Toe, when he’s ready to understand what really happened. But dang was it funny. The worst was when he snuck up behind me and with his cold little fingers clenched onto my stump. Dang that hurt, merely from the shock of it.

I was planning on writing an update for you over the past few days, but instead I’ll do a quick synopsis: Saturday I went on a Ghost Tour of Harpers Ferry, West Virginia with a group of single people from church. It was rather fun, I met a new friend – Ben – and that was that. Sunday, I drove to Purcelville, Virginia to attend another single-people-church-gathering on some dude’s farm. It was nice; big bonfire, pretty stream, lovely nature stuff, the works. That was okay, although I felt kind of lonely because only one person made any effort to speak to me despite all of my attempts to start conversations. And, hey, that dude that owns the farm – Vance – gave me a hug, and that’s not bad, eh?


Anyway. The reason I’m not writing a full synopsis is I’m dang sick of these single-people-church-gatherings. Why? Because apparently it isn’t just my toe that’s invisible. I’ve been in this single-people congregation for several months now and it seems no matter what I do, no matter what efforts I make, people forget my name, they forget who I am, they forget I exist, or they simply flat-out ignore me. Tonight was the last straw.

We were having a pumpkin carving night, so I brought my pumpkin. I won’t explain everything that they did, just the final straw. As I was being cheerful and helping to clean up, two people very loudly started a conversation about home-schooling. They know perfectly well that I was home-schooled, because when I was first introduced it came out that I graduated from high school early and it was because of home-schooling.


Well. These two people kept glancing right at me, speaking in such tones so that I could hear them on the opposite side of the room. To sum up, they said that all home-schoolers are ignorant, stupid, and socially inept. Furthermore, home-schoolers are sheltered, unable to make their own decisions, have no guts, know nothing of culture, will never be accepted to college, and will ‘never amount to anything.’

I was so insulted and so upset that my whole face burned and turned bright red. My brain lit on fire, churning out a multitude of things I wanted to say to them. But in the end, there was nothing I could say that was any better than what they were saying themselves, because everything they said only proved their own stupidity. Why? Because there I was, standing across from them, and – if I may say so – I am in one way or another an exact contradiction to all of their claims. That didn’t change the fact that I was insulted and hurt. I couldn’t take it. It was just the last thing I could tolerate that night, the final insult after everything else this group had just done. So I pushed my way out of the crowd as politely as I could, grabbed my coat, and left. They all saw me leave, and only one person was kind enough to even say ‘good-bye.’

There are still so many things I wish I could say to them, but it’s not worth the trouble. The worst part is the fact that all of these people are at least four years older than I am – most of them my senior by closer to eight years – and yet they’re the ones telling me that I’m socially inept and that I won’t do anything with my life. At least I’m not the one ignoring someone simply because they’re different. At least I’m not the one insulting others for no other reason than they intimidate me. They say I’m the child? I can’t believe it.

When I got home I had a good cry, simply from nerves and frustration, and then decided I wanted some salsa. I’m still not sure the connection between tears and Mexican food, but nevertheless it worked. I called the local Mexican restaurant and asked if I could order just chips and salsa to go. They said sure, but I only had fifteen minutes to get there. I made it with five minutes to spare, and the sweet young man gave me two orders for the price of one – a grand total of $2.08. I came home, singing along with Fred Astaire all the way, put on my pajamas, and had a salsa party with my brother Steven. We kvetched about the awful group of single “adults”, then watched one of our favorite movies, “The Hudsucker Proxy.” That is one amazing film. If you haven’t seen it, you definitely need to rent it and watch it a few times – once isn’t enough, because of all the details in there for you to find.

Ultimately, what the latest events boil down to is this: I’ve struggled with feeling invisible in my church for several years. I’m always the one who seems to be lost in systems. Normally that’s because people are people, they’re busy, they’re forgetful, just as I know I am. And that’s okay. But when it’s on purpose, with the intent of being nasty, I can’t stand it. I still have complete faith in my church and my religion, but sometimes people can be so hard to deal with. No matter what the organization, really, people just need to quit being so quick to bigotry. So I’m different, so what? So I was home-schooled, so what? If you don’t agree with home-schooling, that’s fine! But base your opinion on fact, don’t use it to insult people. *sigh* People can be real pains in the butt sometimes.

I hope that at some point I can find a place where it’s only my toe that’s invisible. I know that I’m not invisible in the sense that I do have friends and I do feel important. This hasn’t affected my self-esteem. It’s just that being treated like you don’t even exist is such a degredation. To treat another human as if they’re so worthless that they’re not even on this planet, that – to me – is one of the worst possible insults. Of all places, this kind of treatment should not be present in a church, a house of worship, a place where love and acceptance is taught.

*sigh* Salsa’s a good thing, yes it is. And bless the Coen brothers, because their movies are great at salsa parties.