April 25
From my brain
Contents |
2008
Me 08:20, 25 April 2008 (EDT)
Stupid words. Really, that's what everything came down to yesterday in my opinion. Phrasing issues and the lack of the ability to explain things clearly when you're on a role on a topic did it.
Had that original person who posted the thread said what was on her mind over voice chat, we might have been OK. She might have been able to get things out, and when people questioned the intent behind it, she could have immediately said, "No...I'm not that angry, but I just want it known how 'the other guy feels.'"
Others then on voice chat could have expressed their opinion. That's when the cannonball fell. Misinterpretations occurred. Violent reactions took place (funny that happened in a thread called, "This might ruffle some feathers.", huh?). The delay time of a forum discussion is disastrous when big issues are on the line.
Then you throw over to the higher forums where the general populace doesn't see everything; the place where we're discussing all of this among the management. More words get thrown around. Stands are made on opposing sides of the issues. Friends end up hurting each other with words that are harsher than they intend in some cases, and not covering what they should and are ineffectual in others.
I hope that today goes smoother. Mostly because I can't take much more of it, but secondly because I won't be around for the damage control that I may or may not have affected yesterday. Income tax returns did NOT come in, however paycheck did. That at least gives us gas, grocery, and Wal-Mart money.
I have offended friends yesterday and I know that. I have angered officers of the guild yesterday. The worst part of that is that I do consider those people to be the same. I do what I can to maintain the difference, but no matter what, I'm gonna end up pissing someone off it seems.
Me 23:05, 25 April 2008 (EDT)
As we were driving home, I commented to Wifey that following Holy Friday services, you feel like you just left a funeral. In practice, that really is what happened. With all the gospel readings, the Old Testament prophesies regarding those gospel readings, and the procession itself, you're made to feel truly a part of the mourners following the crucifixion.
Things start normal enough for an evenings vespers. The tones of the canters are far more somber than any other time of the year, but the songs are the same words. I will say that it's either the tones used or the voice of our new choir director, but that same "Lord, I have cried unto thee..." hymn I've heard so many times before caused me to well up a bit. It wasn't the only time that occurred tonight either.
Service stared around 6:30. At first this just seems like a "normal time" for an evening service, but in reality, it's careful timing. As the hymns are sung, as the readings and gospels are spoken, sunset creeps along and the church interior's light level slowly drops. It's then that you notice that no lights are lit. Not a single aisle spotlight, nothing behind the altar, and certainly not the big chandelier overhead.
At one point, a subdeacon (at least for us) comes out and removes the icon of Christ that's on the cross in the middle of the church. It's held in place by a bolt, the bolt is removed and the body of Christ is covered in a cloth. The subdeacon carries the body to the priest who then takes it behind the altar. Through here, the stories of Joseph of Arimathea are read.
The service proceeds and you notice that the acolytes are starting to carry candles. A subdeacon comes out and puts a candle at the readers stand so the choir can still lead. Dimmer and dimmer it gets, and then finally one of the acolytes comes out with a single candle and walks through the church, lighting the candles we each were given as we entered. By the time he's finished, the sun is completely down, nothing is coming in through the church windows...and nearly every face is aglow with candlelight.
We continue to sing and listen to countless readings throughout all of this. We listen to Job and the fruitful life he bore after his trials. We listen to Ezekiel and the prophesy of the bones. We listen to stories of Moses as the Lord hid him in a crevice as he walked by. Soon, the priest and the rest of the celebrants gather...it's time.
Normally a bier is brought into the church and the Epitaphios and the Gospel are laid on it. Four men volunteer to help carry it in a procession. Something happened this year that we were unable to use our bier, so instead, the procession went along just carrying the Epitaphios by hand. Regardless, candles lit and in hand, the entire church follows the Epitaphios, the priest, and the choir in a procession around the outside of the church as they sing hymns.
On entering, the bier (or in our case, just the cloth of the Epitaphios) is held up and the members of the church all put out their candles and bow in reverence as they walk beneath the bier. The church is now nearly pitch black. The only light is the light at the altar (so the priest can read the prayers), and the candles heldd still by the choir. The rest of us are in darkness.
Like with other parts of the liturgical services, you're there taking part. It's a commemoration, not a mere reenactment. We are in the tomb with Christ. There, in the moment. You have just joined the disciples as they've brought his body in and laid it out. The rock is getting ready to be set in place and for the briefest of moments, you're forgetting about that he'll be back on the third day. The mourning and loss are happening right now.
Moods change among the rest of the parishioners. Voices are lower. Smiles come, but they're strained. There isn't laughter except among the younger children who haven't really understood what sort of thing just occurred around them and for them.
Tomorrow (or priest describes), you'll already note the transition. The somber robes of Lent of the priest are exchanged for pure white robes. There's a term that I've read that calls it "joyful-sadness". Through Saturday, the Lord is down in hell, rescuing the lost souls of the saints and righteous of the Old Covenant on his "day of rest". The Lord isn't in this world, but you know that tomorrow he returns, and you're preparing for that very return.
That doesn't mean it's the prep for a party. Sure, tomorrow we'll be cooking like you wouldn't believe. Kielbasa (the good fresh stuff, not that Hillshire Farms junk I grew up with), ham, breads, prepared cheeses, desserts, you name it. Of course, you can't eat any of that stuff because Holy Saturday is the strictest of fasting days of the whole year, so it's almost unbearable to cook it all. On top of that, there's no TV as well (you try telling that to a 7 and 4 year old!), and yeah...still no WoW for Daddy.
With the trials of this week, I'm still bizarrely focused on this weekend. My heart still aches for trying to figure out a solution to the problems of my friends, officers, and guild members. Hopefully they all give me enough time post-Pascha to regroup and help them.
Me 23:43, 25 April 2008 (EDT)
And while I'm at it, I have updates
- Husband of friend ----who incidentally is also a friend---- is calling out "Censorship!" and "witch hunt!" to the heavens on the other friend (and me, but the censorship is all mine).
- Good email skills...when he's not sleepy. Ball is rolling on a fix.
- The explosive thread in the forums that set this all off is spiraling into the abyss.
- Drama llama has calmed down.
- Later, one guildie quits
- He's gone. Not gonna be able to fix that one. He's talked about it for long enough, but still, I wish it hadn't gone down this way.
- At the same time, the second friend is shattered over this whole issue.
- Doing better. Gotten some consolation from another RL of theirs, and is in better spirits. As for other spirits, I hear several of them are being consumed at this very moment. :)
2007
Me 07:40, 25 April 2007 (EDT)
I figured out the analogy for the way I've felt: post-surgery recovery. I'm out of it. Moving is an effort. Joints are stiff. I just wanna go back to sleep for awhile.
Yeah, that sums me up lately.
