I've been thinking a lot about Proposition 8 - both before the election, and after it. In truth I have mixed feelings about the whole gay marriage thing (for example, how it happened that lesbians went from thinking it was an institution of patriarchy to something we wanted,) but that's a different post for a different time. I'm saddened, of course, that a lot of people in California voted to add a discriminatory amendment to the consitution.

I wasn't going to blog about the election. Mostly because I don't really have anything especially articulate to say about what happened on Tuesday that hasn't already been said, not only about Obama's win, but about the passage of Proposition 8 in California. I talked with my parents election night, and they said they could have never imagined a Black man as President in their lifetimes. Even I found it hard to imagine, even with Hollywood's suggestions.

I have been thinking a lot about where I live, and the kind of place it is, and how it is so completely different than anywhere else I've ever lived before. I live in Fruitvale. It is a neighborhood in Oakland that is incredibly diverse, although by far the largest population here is Latino.

I hate unpacking. Of course, I hate packing too, and I think packing is worse. But unpacking is a pain, too. I'm finally settled in my new place, have all of the stuff out of the garage where it's been stored for a few weeks, and am now faced with a mound of boxes. It's at this stage that I want to become someone who has almost no stuff. I think fondly back in the days (college) when I could fit everything I owned into the trunk of my parent's car. What's funny is that I own a lot less stuff than I did in early 2005, before I ditched most of it, and went to seminary.