:: Searching for Puck... ::

:: Sunday, January 18, 2004 ::

Ah, all-encompassing has arrived again, kids.

Well, the Henry-party didn't go off as far as Joey and I going, which is good, because come to find out the date I had was wrong, anyway.

What did end up happening is that I got together with Henry and Kir at B-dale while Henry was getting info on getting in (think he waited long enough?) and we all hung out. In an intense moment of weirdness, Gaby turned out to be their tour guide and there I was, standing with two exes within two feet of one another and a dating couple I probably would have bedded by now had I not met Joey. Gaby is still a bit socially awkward, not terribly fluent in english and squeaks a little when he laughs, but wow did he grow up. And I mean in some really good ways. Yow. It's a good thing I love Joey!

Hm..whatelse. Well, there was weirdness and a very full-of-crying night last week with Joey...not even entirely sure what over, when all is said and done. The main gist was "Shit my dad doesn't like about you and decided to use me as a conduit for". The faith our kids are going to be raised under was also raised. Later on, I raised this argument:

1.) Joey is Joseph blah the fourth, meaning his son *will* be "the fifth". This isn't up for discussion.
2.) He *will* have a son. If he does not, he will "keep trying until he does".
3.) He *will* have more than one child.
4.) Those children will not be raised under any specific religion.

So, I see it this way. He's freaked out because I want to raise my children in the religion that I embraced through physical, emotional, and spiritual torture from others who tried to get me to rejoin the church for over a decade. Regardless of the fact that I live in a society of first-generation pagans because the faith is hard to keep in a world full of cross-huggers, where being pagan could mean you lose child custody, jobs, even religious freedom rights - a hardship barely any child would chose over the ability to be a 'normal' 'lamb of god' - and my own legacy dies with me. HIS legacy, however, is mandatory in living on through the son, which he *will* have. Here's another breakdown; in the just-under-six-months we've been dating, I've accepted, or at least considered, the following:

1.) I have lost the right to have any say in naming my firstborn son, despite the fact firstborns of either gender carry enormous magical weight in the faith. Even that aside, my child - a child of my womb - will be all but promised to god by carrying a biblical name, regardless of a baptism or not, something I swore would never happen to my children.

2.) I have lost the right to make decisions about my body and how many children I want to have, and the ability to stop having children if I do not produce a male heir.

3.) I have lost the right to have a child without siblings, which I myself was.

4.) I have lost the right to pass my legacy to my children - the very right I endured the hardships of being an outed witch so that they could have the honor of being more than a first generation, the support of blood, and the pride of carrying on the faith.

I make no mistake in the fact that partnerships, and further, marriages, are about compromise. But since when does compromising mean compromising myself?

~Fox
:: Fox 1/18/2004 11:25:00 PM [Say what?] ::
...