When I first started seeing Larry back in St. Louis, he requested several times that I take him to an Episcopal Church for a Sunday service. He had been confirmed as an Anglican back in Wyoming in the '80's, and wanted to renew the calluses on his knees.

For some time, Christ Church Cathedral in downtown St. Louis has created a very welcoming environment for gays as an Oasis Missouri congregation, even consecrating same-sex unions.  Their homeless outreach program was (and still is) the best in the city, they gave anti-war protesters a place to organize during the lead-up to the Iraq debacle, and they had a drag queen in their congregation. What more could you ask for?

Well, one Sunday let to another, and after about a year of attending, I discovered that I wasn't quite the heathen that I had put myself up to be - and my mother didn't have to drag me, kicking and screaming, to church anymore. The congregation was very diverse with representatives from every race, color, creed, orientation and background imagineable and I soon discovered that most everybody, just like me, struggles with their faith and beliefs every day. So I enrolled in their confirmation class (well...it was more like a recovering Roman Catholic 12 step program) and soon thereafter, was a confirmed Anglican.

It was the first time in my life - as an Agnostic - that I felt welcomed in a church, and because I like the congregation so much, I 'offically' joined them.

But since I moved, I haven't been to Church other than to attned two funerals and a wedding. I have a really hard time identifying with the California brand of Christianity with it's drive-thru-strip-mall-McDonalds-ish-chain-Chuches, abstinence rallys, overt christian rock, and an over-abundance of Mercedes with fish stickers. All of this, aligned with all the homo-bashing Bush followers of late, the push for a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage, the Terri Shiavo disgrace, and living within 20 miles of this and THIS just really makes me want to hurl.

So, needless to say, I haven't had much encouragment lately to renew the calluses on MY knees.

But, once again, the good 'ole Episcopal Church has come through again.

The nomination three years agao of the first openly gay Bishop Gene Robinson pissed off consertative Anglicans so much that they threatened to split from the larger union.  All of this was supposed to be resolved last week at the General Convention in Columbus last week, but only proved to be another cat fight. The conservative wings from places like Africa and England requested that the more liberal wings of the U.S. Episcopal Church sign a statement agreeing not to appoint any more openly gay bishops. The liberals instead said basically, "Ok. We'll THINK hard about the POSSIBILITY of not appointing any more gays," - then, in a slap across the face, proceeded to appoint the first female Bishop in the U.S.

Being a proud homo-hater is one thing, but now the conservatives have to admittedly again deal with their sexist side

Confession is a bitch, ain't it?

And as if that wasn't enough, today I see this article on the possibility of another gay man being nominated as a Bishop. If that's not an Alexis-Carrington-back-handed-bitch-slap, I surely don't know what is. I do know that the Democratic Party really needs to take notes and learn a thing or two from these wonderfully unapologetic, liberal Anglicans. This sunday I think I might head down to my neighborhood Episcopal Church and start asking for autographs.

As I've said before, I've been here about two years now. I've seen a great deal of California, doing my part to uphold the long tradition here of the weekend warrior. This state has so much to offer and so much to see within a variety of ecosystems and geographies all tucked away into one corner of the U.S. And that goes without even mentioning the contrasts between the cities.

I love to travel, and Larry and I get away quite often. Whether it be to his family's cabin in the Sierras, a weekend trip to San Diego, a day of snowboarding at Snow Summit, or north again to his mother's in Salinas/Monterey, we tend to live for the weekend. But more and more, my weekends tend to revolve around one thing: surfing.

I've always had a fondness for board sports, but growing up in Missouri, I never thought I would get on a surfboard. Even the guys in the lineup are usually a bit perplexed when the topic between sets turns to my birthplace. The response is usually something like, "Are you serious?", or "There aren't many waves in Missouri, are there?". Haha. Very funny.

When I first started, I thought it would be somewhat difficult, but was convinced it would be low-impact. No need to worry about injuries, right? It's only water.

I quickly realized that this sport is the most difficult thing I've ever taken on in my entire life. The balance I acquired from skateboarding and snowboarding definitely helped me out, but surfing is a completely different monster. Trying stand up on a floating piece of glassed foam at just right moment while paddling into an oncoming six foot wall of water is no easy task. I've eaten shit more times that I can count - infinitely more than successful rides. I've been held under water for what seemed like an eternity, only to surface and immediately get pushed back under. My head has been scraped along the ocean floor more than once, encountering everything from sand to rocks to boulders. Once, after a pretty spectacular wipe-out, I surfaced only to have my 9.5 foot longboard fall from the sky directly on to my skull. I've fallen from the top of a 6 foot wave directly onto my ribs on my board below. And I bruised my tailbone from falling ass-first on a massive rock.

There is also a great deal to be learned about the wave too because each break is has it's own personality. In addition to becoming familiar with a large number of the breaks in Southern California, I've also learned a great deal about swell, buoys, near-shore swell models, fetch, bottom-contour, wave height, sets, set waves and a gazillion other terms that are best defined by Surfline.

All of this may be a hinderance to some, but actually, I thrive on it. I'm completely addicted and absolutely have no intentions of stopping, ever. Nothing compares to an early morning, sitting on my board just offshore in Laguna Beach, with a pod of porpoises feeding just 20 feet from me. Or getting in the water after work somewhere along the miles of sand in Huntington Beach, and then getting out as the sun is setting.

So now, 4 boards later (one of which I proudly snapped in half), I'm actually becoming pretty good. My sessions in the water are becoming less about surviving and more about having fun and enjoying the ocean. Even our California weekend get-aways are more frequently incorporating the beach because a surfboard is now required luggage. So when my friends say, "What do you mean you've never been to Vegas?", or "I can't believe you still haven't seen Palm Springs", the first thought in my mind is "Well....there aren't any waves there." And besides, I'd rather be surfing.

The hardest part of creating this blog was coming up with the title. I knew it had to be cute and I wanted it to have some sort of meaning. I know that some you may have initially thought that it came from a random thought from my beautiful mind, but sometimes my brain is short on cute, meaningful things. The title is actually part of a larger quote:

"There is science, logic, reason; there is thought verified by experience. And then there is California."

Edward Abbey was an author who spoke a great deal about preservation, conservation, ecology and the American West and I know practically nothing about him. But here's a good summary from the Denver Post:

"Edward Abbey is one of our foremost Western essayist and novelists. A militant conservationist, he has attracted a large following -- not only within the ranks of Sierra Club enthusiasts and dedicated backpackers, but also among armchair appreciators of good writing. What always made his work doubly interesting is the sense of a true maverick spirit at large, within it -- a kind of spirit not imitable, limited only to the highest class of literary outlaws."

To make a long story short, I'll blame it on Google. I wanted a good title, so I googled "California Quotes", found the above quote, and the rest is literary history. But it makes sense, it gets my point across, and chicks dig it. Wouldn't you agree?

And now that I've brought up Mr. Abbey and his environmental stance, it seems that the White House had a turn with Mother Nature this weekend in what many are seeing as instant karma, global warming style.
It's not nice to fool with Mother Nature (insert lightning and thunder here).

In other biological news, a recent study found that the number of brothers a man has could influence his sexuality. This exciting discovery ads credence to the argument put forth by people such as myself who believe that sexuality is genetic and hard-wired. It goes without saying that gay people everyone should rejoice in this news, having added another gay feather in our gay-collective-cap. But, with all of the evidence that is gathered to strengthen our defense, there are inevitably more questions.

When in the life cycle does gayness begin? Is Gaydar also genetic? Can a gay man's superior accessorizing abilities be scientifically proven? Most importantly, if the whole brother thing is true, then which of the Brady boys is gay?

Greg had fabulously decorated attic/loft/bedroom, the best cloths and the nicest teeth. He also had a musical intuition that was far superior to Bobby and Peter (When It's Time To Change...) AND he had his Johnny Bravo alter-ego. How gay is that? Most importantly, he talked about girls entirely too much as if he was constantly trying to remind even himself of his (absent) heterosexuality. And who can forget the time he turned his room into a bachelor pad? It looked more like a backroom at a discotech to me...

When I started college as a journalism major, my instructors stressed the importance of making the story local. I also learned that it is important to somehow bring all of the elements of a story together in your conclusion with some sort of anecdote or uniting characteristic. This weekend I went to a Bear (gay, conseration, environmentalism) event call Bear Kamp at a hot, sweaty nightclub (global warming) where I saw the new Paris Hilton (bad news) and Go-Go Bears.

On July 14, I will have lived here for 2 years. California, that is ( Swimmin' pools... movie stars...). And last night, as I was putting the final touches on this blog, my awareness of just how fast that time had passed hit me really hard. What have I been doing out here for 2 years? What have I accomplished? Why am I here? What the f*#k happened to all that time? And why the hell am I in California?

Which leads me to this blog...

At my first design job back in St. Louis, my fellow designers and I ridiculed bloggers whenever an opportunity presented itself. They were the David Hasselhoffs of the internet: B-list movie stars of the world wide web screaming for attention. But when you have Baywatch for a website, who's gonna pay attention? They had little, crappy, boring websites and would never be able rise up to the quality of a REAL designer's site. As if anyone wanted hear the details of their meager lives anyway. They were Jan. We were Marcia.

But then something suddenly came up. Blogs started getting good, and some of them started to have a real impact on the media and politics. The Daily Kos, Crooks and Liars, and Raw Story became daily fixes for my political addiction. And more recently, I started hitting Pop Culture Junkies, Rob Thurman and Angry Black Bitch more than regularly. So, in my best David Hasselhoff imitation, I am now going to make an attempt at being a blogger. But I need a theme, right?

That's where California comes in... As I said earlier, I've been here two years now, having moved from St. Louis when my partner was offered a job in Irvine, CA. Orange County. The OC. We've since moved to the other side of the Orange Curtain to Long Beach in LA County, but I feel that I'm still in transition. Larry was born and raised in California, so he knew what to expect. My Missouri-born ass on the other hand, will soon be entering a second year of culture shock.

The first year in the OC was especially...well...interesting. California, and especially Southern California, get a bad wrap from the entire world. We're all egotistical, yoga-obsessed, mercedes-driving, materialistic, blond, wanna-be-actors. Stereotypes exist for a reason, but like anything, there are exceptions.

So, the first year in the OC was especially....well....interesting. There are entirely too many bad things for me to say about Orange County, but I will only say that the people there generally live up to the stereotype. The rest I will treasure, nourish and slowly feed you throughout the lifetime of this blog.

The second year in Long Beach (LA County) has been wonderful, and I really couldn't image myself living anywhere else. It's definitely not the OC...and it's not really LA. LB has it's own flavor and is a wonderful place for someone of my political persuasion. And it actually reminds me a lot of St. Louis. Why? Well....if the OC is St. Louis County, then LA is St. Louis City. Long Beach then is Tower Grove, or Soulard. Definitely not the Central West End, but maybe a little bit of The Loop. Capeesh?

So anyway....California, like life, has some of the bad and some of the good. Actually it has a LOT of bad and a LOT of good, but the mixture makes a very interesting cocktail. And that's why this blog exists.