The Weirdest Dream Of All
I was in a church. Well, not a church exactly...it was more like a stadium, with rows and rows of seats. The church was packed and down near the...well...stage, I guess, that's what it looked like, was someone preaching. He was talking about how all of us were sinners and other things about religion. I was up near the top, behind some glass, listening to his sermon from small speakers. I forgot what he said, but then he asked the congregation to do something, like confess sins or whatever. And as they were thinking about it, the screen switched on with a bible quote or a question or something and little keypads popped out from the backs of the chairs. The people were entering in something, like numbers or letters. The screen was remarkable though; the quotation or whatever on the screen had a red background, with a Coca-Cola symbol on the top middle of it. Like an endorsement. I crept closer, right down an aisle, not believing what I saw and wondering if anyone had the same slow sinking feeling I had. Then the screen went blank and the preacher called on a man. "I am a sinner," he began, "I can see things, like into the future and I know what people are thinking and a whole bunch of things like that. I can't help it, it just happens. I am so sorry to God and everyone else that these things happen." He gave an example of something that he did. Then the preacher started saying, "You see, there's a sinner. The Devil is working through him, confusing him...." and on and on he went. Suddenly I noticed the people. They were all nodding in agreement. But the looks on their faces...they were blank looks. Like everything he said they'd agree with no matter what it was. Suddenly I couldn't take it anymore. "NO!" I shouted. "That's NOT what it is. If God bestows a gift upon someone, who are you to say that it is evil? If you use it manipualte other people, get them to do what you want, then it is evil. But if you use it to help someone, it isn't evil. And if God didn't want him to have it, God wouldn't have given it to him." I looked around, and the people just sat there in silence. The person who had "confessed" their "sins" looked at me horror. "Don't you see?" I yelled. "It isn't evil. It's what you do with it that counts...."
And I then I woke up.
Friday, November 29, 2002
And Just Something
So I'm doing all of this writing. And my mom comes into the room, stands there for no apparent reason, is silent for a moment before she says, "Well. Someone did change the calendar to December.", and continues to stand there for a moment. Actually, for several long moments. And I wait for her to leave. Finally she does.
Just that final thought of the hell I have to live with this month. Now I'll be off to bed and cry myself to sleep with the hopelessness of it all. I love Christmas.
So I'm doing all of this writing. And my mom comes into the room, stands there for no apparent reason, is silent for a moment before she says, "Well. Someone did change the calendar to December.", and continues to stand there for a moment. Actually, for several long moments. And I wait for her to leave. Finally she does.
Just that final thought of the hell I have to live with this month. Now I'll be off to bed and cry myself to sleep with the hopelessness of it all. I love Christmas.
Something Thought
Mr. Blond says that he hasn't kept up with reading my blogs. Which is just as well for me. I wouldn't want anyone getting too close again. After all, there's a lot that I don't tell him. I'm being cautious, I know, but it's out of habit and protection for myself. I don't want to have a pattern of the same kind of relationships that boarder on the "honky tonk". (Go listen to some classic country.) Especially since I pay for a lot of things. Really, I've heard the "when I get a job, I'll buy you [insert whatever item here]" thing too many times to really believe it. The proof is when those people actually get a job. And there's been enough times that someone has and has never shown the same kind of generousity that I've shown them. I'm a skeptic. I can't help it. Or maybe it's a defense. The thing is, it's not a bad defense. Really, it isn't.
And he tries so hard to get me to tell him what's wrong. I just won't; I can't tell him because I don't trust him to know how much anything really hurts me. I feel too close in some ways and to make up for it, I have to not be close in others. I'm good at distance. Distraction is another good one too. If he's too busy, then he won't pay attention in those single moments where I feel the chasm of lonliness. Or he'll forget about them. At least, I hope that's what happens. At the same time, I don't want it to. I want to say how I feel. But I can't. And then people tell me I'll get married one day. I laugh at that. No, I won't. I can barely live with myself, how is anyone really going to able to live with me? There are times even I don't want to be around myself so I can only imagine the tourture other people have to go through because I'm there. I don't even know why he's interested in me; I'm the daffy sort, and it really must be frustrating to hang around someone so not apparently as smart as he is. I know people who are smarter than me. And I'm not all that interesting either. All I ever do is write or read a book. And I can be very annoying. Very, very annoying. Ask any of my friends, they'll tell you. I don't claim to be a nice person because I'm not.
Or maybe I'm just feeling this way now because I live in a house with two crazy people who play games with me....
Mr. Blond says that he hasn't kept up with reading my blogs. Which is just as well for me. I wouldn't want anyone getting too close again. After all, there's a lot that I don't tell him. I'm being cautious, I know, but it's out of habit and protection for myself. I don't want to have a pattern of the same kind of relationships that boarder on the "honky tonk". (Go listen to some classic country.) Especially since I pay for a lot of things. Really, I've heard the "when I get a job, I'll buy you [insert whatever item here]" thing too many times to really believe it. The proof is when those people actually get a job. And there's been enough times that someone has and has never shown the same kind of generousity that I've shown them. I'm a skeptic. I can't help it. Or maybe it's a defense. The thing is, it's not a bad defense. Really, it isn't.
And he tries so hard to get me to tell him what's wrong. I just won't; I can't tell him because I don't trust him to know how much anything really hurts me. I feel too close in some ways and to make up for it, I have to not be close in others. I'm good at distance. Distraction is another good one too. If he's too busy, then he won't pay attention in those single moments where I feel the chasm of lonliness. Or he'll forget about them. At least, I hope that's what happens. At the same time, I don't want it to. I want to say how I feel. But I can't. And then people tell me I'll get married one day. I laugh at that. No, I won't. I can barely live with myself, how is anyone really going to able to live with me? There are times even I don't want to be around myself so I can only imagine the tourture other people have to go through because I'm there. I don't even know why he's interested in me; I'm the daffy sort, and it really must be frustrating to hang around someone so not apparently as smart as he is. I know people who are smarter than me. And I'm not all that interesting either. All I ever do is write or read a book. And I can be very annoying. Very, very annoying. Ask any of my friends, they'll tell you. I don't claim to be a nice person because I'm not.
Or maybe I'm just feeling this way now because I live in a house with two crazy people who play games with me....
Something Felt
Do you know how hard it is not to cry? Your throat hurts, tears well up in your eyes, that kind of thing. I was considering pulling over to the side of the road and bawling before I picked up Mr. Blond. But then I didn't. And on our way to where we were, I nearly burst into tears again. It's really hard not to cry.
And why, pray tell, would I cry?
It's now the official "holiday season". This is the season in which I am constantly yelled at. This is the season that I am told that I have to do all of these things and only told them as I'm leaving the house, and if I say no, I am met with glares and yelling or total angry silence. No one thinks to ask me in advance for their help. This is the season where I hear about how much money my mother has spent on everyone. This is the season in which my mother feels like bestowing gifts upon me that I probably won't like. (I have two such gifts already. I don't know why I would make out a list if she's not going to keep to it. The bad thing though is that they were expensive, and for less money, she could have bought me several of the things I wanted instead. In other words, she bought me something that she liked but I didn't.) This is the season that I, as the official daughter, have to make sure that everything gets done and that my mother doesn't freak out. Never mind that I had plans, never mind that I'm really tired, never mind that I don't want to spend three hours straight with my mother. She never truly acknowledges what I do.
I wanted to be out before this came around. I pictured sitting in my own place, thinking of what she had to do, and laugh my ass off while I ignore the phone because she'd probably be calling me to help with something. I don't think I can take another year of this. Last year, I didn't cry until a week before. This year, I'm crying now. It's going to be bad.
That, and she made me really angry today. "When I said that you have to have the car fixed," she said, "I saw the look on your face." And then she went into a speech on how they don't have very much money in their budget to help me. "Fine," I said, "let's take the car to the boy's ranch and I'll take the bus from now on." She looked at me in horror. "Are you comfortable with that?" she asked. I gave her a look and said, "How much money do you really think I have? I have parking tickets and credit cards to pay off, not to mention school." And she wanted to know how much. You know, it's not like they're going to help me out with it, so they have no right to know how much. It's none of their flippin' business. I flat out told her it was none of her business. Did that stop her? NO. It didn't. She kept pressing until I told her. I hate her. I really do. Like I'm lying about being in debt. Finally she said that she'd help with the car. I think she's the one afraid of me taking the bus. What the fuck does she think is going to happen when I move out? I can't afford a car. Is she on crack? Anyway, it's not like I have a choice in the matter. Oh, and get this: "Well, we thought you'd be gone by now. We didn't plan on you still living here." (This was in the litany of "what we owe".) I just have two words for that: FUCK YOU. I didn't plan on living with them when I went to college. I planned on moving out and going away to college. They told me they wouldn't help pay for it then. I planned on moving out after the first two years. Again, they wouldn't help pay for it at all. But I absolutely had to get a college education. I really hate it when people play these types of games with me. I really hate it. Have I not done enough for them? Have I not followed their path for me? It hurts so much...I'm going to cry. I should stop now, while I am ahead. Do you know how hard it is not to cry? It gives me a headache....
Do you know how hard it is not to cry? Your throat hurts, tears well up in your eyes, that kind of thing. I was considering pulling over to the side of the road and bawling before I picked up Mr. Blond. But then I didn't. And on our way to where we were, I nearly burst into tears again. It's really hard not to cry.
And why, pray tell, would I cry?
It's now the official "holiday season". This is the season in which I am constantly yelled at. This is the season that I am told that I have to do all of these things and only told them as I'm leaving the house, and if I say no, I am met with glares and yelling or total angry silence. No one thinks to ask me in advance for their help. This is the season where I hear about how much money my mother has spent on everyone. This is the season in which my mother feels like bestowing gifts upon me that I probably won't like. (I have two such gifts already. I don't know why I would make out a list if she's not going to keep to it. The bad thing though is that they were expensive, and for less money, she could have bought me several of the things I wanted instead. In other words, she bought me something that she liked but I didn't.) This is the season that I, as the official daughter, have to make sure that everything gets done and that my mother doesn't freak out. Never mind that I had plans, never mind that I'm really tired, never mind that I don't want to spend three hours straight with my mother. She never truly acknowledges what I do.
I wanted to be out before this came around. I pictured sitting in my own place, thinking of what she had to do, and laugh my ass off while I ignore the phone because she'd probably be calling me to help with something. I don't think I can take another year of this. Last year, I didn't cry until a week before. This year, I'm crying now. It's going to be bad.
That, and she made me really angry today. "When I said that you have to have the car fixed," she said, "I saw the look on your face." And then she went into a speech on how they don't have very much money in their budget to help me. "Fine," I said, "let's take the car to the boy's ranch and I'll take the bus from now on." She looked at me in horror. "Are you comfortable with that?" she asked. I gave her a look and said, "How much money do you really think I have? I have parking tickets and credit cards to pay off, not to mention school." And she wanted to know how much. You know, it's not like they're going to help me out with it, so they have no right to know how much. It's none of their flippin' business. I flat out told her it was none of her business. Did that stop her? NO. It didn't. She kept pressing until I told her. I hate her. I really do. Like I'm lying about being in debt. Finally she said that she'd help with the car. I think she's the one afraid of me taking the bus. What the fuck does she think is going to happen when I move out? I can't afford a car. Is she on crack? Anyway, it's not like I have a choice in the matter. Oh, and get this: "Well, we thought you'd be gone by now. We didn't plan on you still living here." (This was in the litany of "what we owe".) I just have two words for that: FUCK YOU. I didn't plan on living with them when I went to college. I planned on moving out and going away to college. They told me they wouldn't help pay for it then. I planned on moving out after the first two years. Again, they wouldn't help pay for it at all. But I absolutely had to get a college education. I really hate it when people play these types of games with me. I really hate it. Have I not done enough for them? Have I not followed their path for me? It hurts so much...I'm going to cry. I should stop now, while I am ahead. Do you know how hard it is not to cry? It gives me a headache....
Sunday, November 24, 2002
Random, As It Seems
So I have this feeling that Mr. Blond is preoccupied at the moment. What do I do? Head to the nearest bar....Well, not the nearest, but maybe the dearest.
And now I'm rife with thoughts.
I've often said that I want to be married and have bebes within the next five years. But no one's thought to ask me what would happen if that never came true. The answer then is that I won't get married, ever....And don't think about the kiddies part, because accidents happen. I would never blame a kid I bore for the fact that I wasn't responsible. That's just too harsh. There are people like that, but since it's a miracle that a child is even concieved, I'm not going to hold it responsible for my actions. And if you don't believe me...think about what goes into having a child. To begin with, you need the right conditions. For instance, ovulation. A woman just doesn't get pregnant unless there's an egg just waiting to be fertilized. And the egg is usually fertilized when it's travelling down the fallopian tube. Then it implants itself in the uterus. Seems simple, right? It's not. A million and one things can happen that egg and sperm can't meet. And that's not with any risk factors involved, like smoking and/or drinking. If the sperm meets the egg too soon, there's more than a chance for miscarrage. If the sperm is immature, there's a chance for miscarrage. If the egg is not viable, there's a chance for miscarrage. There are a million and one ways that a pregnancy won't happen, that when it does, I'm not one to argue with the chances. Eduacated people get frustrated with the world at large because there's over six billion of us...but really, the fact that humans could ever reach that proportion is staggering.
I'm just baby crazy. That's all it is. Really.
It has nothing to with the fact that I'm in love or anything. But I'm also annoyingly dipolmatic. If someone's not on the same page as me, I won't go around forcing them to think the same way I do. I've learned that mistake over and over again.
And now I'm going to bed. I'm pretty tipsy, wouldn't y'all like to know what I think? One day I'll tell, just not now....
So I have this feeling that Mr. Blond is preoccupied at the moment. What do I do? Head to the nearest bar....Well, not the nearest, but maybe the dearest.
And now I'm rife with thoughts.
I've often said that I want to be married and have bebes within the next five years. But no one's thought to ask me what would happen if that never came true. The answer then is that I won't get married, ever....And don't think about the kiddies part, because accidents happen. I would never blame a kid I bore for the fact that I wasn't responsible. That's just too harsh. There are people like that, but since it's a miracle that a child is even concieved, I'm not going to hold it responsible for my actions. And if you don't believe me...think about what goes into having a child. To begin with, you need the right conditions. For instance, ovulation. A woman just doesn't get pregnant unless there's an egg just waiting to be fertilized. And the egg is usually fertilized when it's travelling down the fallopian tube. Then it implants itself in the uterus. Seems simple, right? It's not. A million and one things can happen that egg and sperm can't meet. And that's not with any risk factors involved, like smoking and/or drinking. If the sperm meets the egg too soon, there's more than a chance for miscarrage. If the sperm is immature, there's a chance for miscarrage. If the egg is not viable, there's a chance for miscarrage. There are a million and one ways that a pregnancy won't happen, that when it does, I'm not one to argue with the chances. Eduacated people get frustrated with the world at large because there's over six billion of us...but really, the fact that humans could ever reach that proportion is staggering.
I'm just baby crazy. That's all it is. Really.
It has nothing to with the fact that I'm in love or anything. But I'm also annoyingly dipolmatic. If someone's not on the same page as me, I won't go around forcing them to think the same way I do. I've learned that mistake over and over again.
And now I'm going to bed. I'm pretty tipsy, wouldn't y'all like to know what I think? One day I'll tell, just not now....
Sunday, November 17, 2002
I Am Not Amused
Short Jokes: Even if you think you're being original, you're not. I'm short. I've heard just about every short joke that there is to hear. I don't find it funny. It's not that I don't have a sense of humor; it's the lack of originality that does not amuse me. Whatever it is in relation to me, the joke will always be "small" or "short". And if I don't laugh, that doesn't mean I'm "short" on brains...it just means that I don't find it funny. I don't believe in laughing at jokes that I do not find funny. I guess you could say I have a "short" sense of humor. Ha. Ha. The jokes on you, of course: I have a "short" temper. So don't even try. (Oh, btw, I may be short, but I have a presence -- and occasionally, ego -- that can fill a room. How else does one become the Bar Mouse or even the Audience of One?)
Chicks who can't handle their liquor: One sat down next to me because she was going to pass out. Really, you should leave before then. Many times I've barfed or nearly passed out...and that's the time to make a quick exit from the bar. Bartenders usually remember that kind of thing. There's only one time where I nearly passed out, and that was forgivable because it was my birthday and I'd had a lot of liquor. I didn't pass out completely; I was dazed and drunk. Passing out is something you do in your car or at home. You should leave before then. Oh, and make sure your boyfriend isn't an asshole about it; if you occupy someone else's seat, especially if it's crowded in the bar, the least you should do is offer to buy them a beer or shot. Think of it as the price of courtesy. Especially if you are rude to the person whose seat you now occupy. And you should know how drunk you're getting. It's not that hard to gauge.
Sex: I don't care. I don't care who has, how many times, how long, what anyone's philosophy is about it, what is done during. I just don't care. It's not that interesting to know about such things. Whatever story anyone has, there's prolly a better one out there. Oh, but one useful tip: If you're late for something, you can always use it as an excuse. "Sorry I was late, but I was, well, I was having sex." Try that one at work next time.
Jokes that I don't get: I don't care. Really, I don't. Sometimes they are funny if they're explained. But sometimes, the explanation of it just takes away whatever humor value there was to it. If it was "you had to be there" (or "you had to see it"), it's prolly not going to be as funny. I understand this. That's why I never try to explain my random laughter.
On a side note, there was a song playing last night that reminded me of Cosmic. He had a silly dance to it. And even funnier, today he called me and we chatted on the phone for awhile. We're going out drinking later this week...and he's paying. Woo-hoo! I will drink that boy under the table....(Which, incidentally, I have done. And still was sober enough to go home. Hehehehe.)
Short Jokes: Even if you think you're being original, you're not. I'm short. I've heard just about every short joke that there is to hear. I don't find it funny. It's not that I don't have a sense of humor; it's the lack of originality that does not amuse me. Whatever it is in relation to me, the joke will always be "small" or "short". And if I don't laugh, that doesn't mean I'm "short" on brains...it just means that I don't find it funny. I don't believe in laughing at jokes that I do not find funny. I guess you could say I have a "short" sense of humor. Ha. Ha. The jokes on you, of course: I have a "short" temper. So don't even try. (Oh, btw, I may be short, but I have a presence -- and occasionally, ego -- that can fill a room. How else does one become the Bar Mouse or even the Audience of One?)
Chicks who can't handle their liquor: One sat down next to me because she was going to pass out. Really, you should leave before then. Many times I've barfed or nearly passed out...and that's the time to make a quick exit from the bar. Bartenders usually remember that kind of thing. There's only one time where I nearly passed out, and that was forgivable because it was my birthday and I'd had a lot of liquor. I didn't pass out completely; I was dazed and drunk. Passing out is something you do in your car or at home. You should leave before then. Oh, and make sure your boyfriend isn't an asshole about it; if you occupy someone else's seat, especially if it's crowded in the bar, the least you should do is offer to buy them a beer or shot. Think of it as the price of courtesy. Especially if you are rude to the person whose seat you now occupy. And you should know how drunk you're getting. It's not that hard to gauge.
Sex: I don't care. I don't care who has, how many times, how long, what anyone's philosophy is about it, what is done during. I just don't care. It's not that interesting to know about such things. Whatever story anyone has, there's prolly a better one out there. Oh, but one useful tip: If you're late for something, you can always use it as an excuse. "Sorry I was late, but I was, well, I was having sex." Try that one at work next time.
Jokes that I don't get: I don't care. Really, I don't. Sometimes they are funny if they're explained. But sometimes, the explanation of it just takes away whatever humor value there was to it. If it was "you had to be there" (or "you had to see it"), it's prolly not going to be as funny. I understand this. That's why I never try to explain my random laughter.
On a side note, there was a song playing last night that reminded me of Cosmic. He had a silly dance to it. And even funnier, today he called me and we chatted on the phone for awhile. We're going out drinking later this week...and he's paying. Woo-hoo! I will drink that boy under the table....(Which, incidentally, I have done. And still was sober enough to go home. Hehehehe.)
Monday, November 11, 2002
More Random
My horoscope from Astrocenter.com
You seem to have a lot of personal issues to work on over the course of this week. Mercury continues to conjunct the Sun, and both square the Moon and oppose Jupiter. You are desperately seeking a solution to your current dilemma. You are trying to see the bigger picture as well as intuit some of the hidden and tiny details. There is a lot to take in and you need to find a way to get a handle on this issue that empowers you, rather than making you feel helpless and out of control. Venus continues to be retrograde in your sign and this is encouraging you to look very closely at the way you relate to others. Sometimes we have a tendency to accuse others of doing things that we quite blatantly do ourselves, but can't see. Your love life is not your main focus right now. But perhaps by trying to gain a deeper understanding of who you are and why you do what you do - you will gain insights. This seems to be a week when you clear away toxic emotions and let in the pure light of forgiveness - if this is possible. Bathe your heart and soul in the clear waters of truth and let yourself go.
I don't know about this one. I'm always asking myself questions to gain insight. This is something I try to do on a daily basis. Oh, well, maybe it'll be nothing....
My horoscope from Astrocenter.com
You seem to have a lot of personal issues to work on over the course of this week. Mercury continues to conjunct the Sun, and both square the Moon and oppose Jupiter. You are desperately seeking a solution to your current dilemma. You are trying to see the bigger picture as well as intuit some of the hidden and tiny details. There is a lot to take in and you need to find a way to get a handle on this issue that empowers you, rather than making you feel helpless and out of control. Venus continues to be retrograde in your sign and this is encouraging you to look very closely at the way you relate to others. Sometimes we have a tendency to accuse others of doing things that we quite blatantly do ourselves, but can't see. Your love life is not your main focus right now. But perhaps by trying to gain a deeper understanding of who you are and why you do what you do - you will gain insights. This seems to be a week when you clear away toxic emotions and let in the pure light of forgiveness - if this is possible. Bathe your heart and soul in the clear waters of truth and let yourself go.
I don't know about this one. I'm always asking myself questions to gain insight. This is something I try to do on a daily basis. Oh, well, maybe it'll be nothing....
Sunday, November 10, 2002
To Hell With It
We were sitting in the car. "Yeah," my friend says, "you're 25 now. I remember you ranting about how you couldn't wait to be 25. You said, 'Now I will be heard.'"
I had forgotten about that. When I turned 24, something magical was supposed to have happen (I won't elaborate, but it would have been big). If I lived to 25, that's when I'd be a real adult. Notice how no one ever pays attention to anyone under the age of 25? No one takes you seriously. But then you're 25, 26 and people start talking to you as if you're an actual adult. They assume that you know something. And for whatever meager attention that might bring, I'd be happy to have it. I'm tired of people not taking me seriously or even listening to me. There are so many conversations that I'd like to have but no one really has the time -- or interest -- to sit with me and listen. It'd be even better if they also knew what I was talking about but I'm not going to be that picky. Like I say, I'd rather pretend that I never was a child. I couldn't wait to be an adult when I was younger. I desparately wanted to grow up. Slowly but surely I did. I'm still growing up. And I never want to be a kid again. My pain is my own and makes me who I am but that doesn't mean that I want to live through that tourture again. You may be thinking to yourself, "What could really be so bad?" All I can say is that I understand the frustration, humiliation, depression of those who go to school and go on shooting sprees because they were teased. The anger, the despair, just the horrible sadness that follows you around and takes up space in your head, and in the quiet moments can be so loud and deafening that it drives you crazy and you want your life to end because it's there, always there, and you can't escape from it. I understand the children who live in such a hell that they would commit suicide to get away from the pain that their classmates cause them. Zero Tolerance won't get rid of the bullies. It's nothing that the kids themselves do, they aren't particularily weak or suseptable to attack...just somewhere on Earth, a group of kids gets it into their heads that they have to be so mean to one person. It's a way of fitting in, I suppose. Whenever you see those shocking things on TV, just remember that something so seriously wrong happened to this kid, that they believe that this is their only way out of it.
And to be really sad about it, the only thing that stopped me from doing something so dramatic or committing suicide was my faith in God. I'm not saying it would work for anyone else, I'm just saying it worked for me. When I had no one else, not even my parents, there was God. There's nothing like being alone in a church with just you and Jesus. God may not always answer your prayers, God may not even give you the answer you want, but that's God, and maybe it's just as well then. After all, God's got your interests at heart. I knew that I would never get half the things I prayed for but it still felt better just to rant to God. God listens. And for the times when I cursed God because I was mad at God, I knew deep down that it was silly to be mad at God for my own failings, for not getting what I wanted because I wanted to be lazy about it and not work for it. I think that's most people's problem with God; you don't get instant gratification from God. On the same token, if God can be patient with me when I'm ranting, then I guess I could be patient with God if I ask for something. I think of God as a best friend and mentor. Maybe that's why I have issues with fundamentalists; their God is an unforgiving parent who will bestow harsh punishments upon you and all you can do is ask for what little mercy God may have (but don't expect to get it, you heathen sinner!) instead of God as someone who helps you and understands a bit about humanity and occasionally tries to steer you in another direction if it seems the one you're on will lead you to places that you really shouldn't go. Friendly advice...you can take it or leave it and if you leave it, that's the path to sin. As one spiritual mentor (and piano teacher) once noted to me, "God came down to us through Jesus. We think that now what God wants is for us to meet Him on His level." And if that's not true, I still don't care, because I will always believe in God and always try my best to be a good Christian. Sometimes I fancy that I feel like Jesus standing around the high priests and Pharasees, telling people that it's not necessarily the religious rules that matter, it's the understanding of God and willingness to carry out God's plan that matters. Like I said before, there's traditions and rituals, and those are okay, but they aren't the teachings themselves. You can wear your chastity rings and fast for Lent, but if you don't really believe in God and you don't live with God in your heart, you still won't get the "get into heaven free" pass. God's gonna know if you're paying lip service or not. If you're a Christian, and you stand on a street corner and yell to the world that the heathen homosexuals are going to burn in hell, and then proceed to badger anyone you see that you think might be homosexual, THEN YOU'RE NOT LIVING THE WORD OF GOD! If you live the word of God, you'd leave them alone because it's not up to you to decide where they're going and if they reject God, that's not your problem and you can't cure them or berate them or anything else. "He who is without sin shall cast the first stone." "How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye', when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?" How can a Christian really ignore these kinds of teachings? Am I truly the only one who actually thinks about what they mean? I'm not going to shove my beliefs about God down anyone's throat. But for those who do believe, don't you think they should know better? I certainly do. With the way things go, though, I'm beginning to feel that I'm in the minority on that one...guess I'm gonna have to start going to church again. I need the reassurance that someone out there will teach the word of God with humanity instead of callous disregard for people.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Turning 25. I've had a strange year and a half. An engagement, a fire, and broken engagement...a few men thrown into the mix. It's been so hectic. Maybe now life will be better than it has been from now on. I certainly hope so. And now I'm all out of writing steam, so I think I'm gonna go and make some breakfast....
We were sitting in the car. "Yeah," my friend says, "you're 25 now. I remember you ranting about how you couldn't wait to be 25. You said, 'Now I will be heard.'"
I had forgotten about that. When I turned 24, something magical was supposed to have happen (I won't elaborate, but it would have been big). If I lived to 25, that's when I'd be a real adult. Notice how no one ever pays attention to anyone under the age of 25? No one takes you seriously. But then you're 25, 26 and people start talking to you as if you're an actual adult. They assume that you know something. And for whatever meager attention that might bring, I'd be happy to have it. I'm tired of people not taking me seriously or even listening to me. There are so many conversations that I'd like to have but no one really has the time -- or interest -- to sit with me and listen. It'd be even better if they also knew what I was talking about but I'm not going to be that picky. Like I say, I'd rather pretend that I never was a child. I couldn't wait to be an adult when I was younger. I desparately wanted to grow up. Slowly but surely I did. I'm still growing up. And I never want to be a kid again. My pain is my own and makes me who I am but that doesn't mean that I want to live through that tourture again. You may be thinking to yourself, "What could really be so bad?" All I can say is that I understand the frustration, humiliation, depression of those who go to school and go on shooting sprees because they were teased. The anger, the despair, just the horrible sadness that follows you around and takes up space in your head, and in the quiet moments can be so loud and deafening that it drives you crazy and you want your life to end because it's there, always there, and you can't escape from it. I understand the children who live in such a hell that they would commit suicide to get away from the pain that their classmates cause them. Zero Tolerance won't get rid of the bullies. It's nothing that the kids themselves do, they aren't particularily weak or suseptable to attack...just somewhere on Earth, a group of kids gets it into their heads that they have to be so mean to one person. It's a way of fitting in, I suppose. Whenever you see those shocking things on TV, just remember that something so seriously wrong happened to this kid, that they believe that this is their only way out of it.
And to be really sad about it, the only thing that stopped me from doing something so dramatic or committing suicide was my faith in God. I'm not saying it would work for anyone else, I'm just saying it worked for me. When I had no one else, not even my parents, there was God. There's nothing like being alone in a church with just you and Jesus. God may not always answer your prayers, God may not even give you the answer you want, but that's God, and maybe it's just as well then. After all, God's got your interests at heart. I knew that I would never get half the things I prayed for but it still felt better just to rant to God. God listens. And for the times when I cursed God because I was mad at God, I knew deep down that it was silly to be mad at God for my own failings, for not getting what I wanted because I wanted to be lazy about it and not work for it. I think that's most people's problem with God; you don't get instant gratification from God. On the same token, if God can be patient with me when I'm ranting, then I guess I could be patient with God if I ask for something. I think of God as a best friend and mentor. Maybe that's why I have issues with fundamentalists; their God is an unforgiving parent who will bestow harsh punishments upon you and all you can do is ask for what little mercy God may have (but don't expect to get it, you heathen sinner!) instead of God as someone who helps you and understands a bit about humanity and occasionally tries to steer you in another direction if it seems the one you're on will lead you to places that you really shouldn't go. Friendly advice...you can take it or leave it and if you leave it, that's the path to sin. As one spiritual mentor (and piano teacher) once noted to me, "God came down to us through Jesus. We think that now what God wants is for us to meet Him on His level." And if that's not true, I still don't care, because I will always believe in God and always try my best to be a good Christian. Sometimes I fancy that I feel like Jesus standing around the high priests and Pharasees, telling people that it's not necessarily the religious rules that matter, it's the understanding of God and willingness to carry out God's plan that matters. Like I said before, there's traditions and rituals, and those are okay, but they aren't the teachings themselves. You can wear your chastity rings and fast for Lent, but if you don't really believe in God and you don't live with God in your heart, you still won't get the "get into heaven free" pass. God's gonna know if you're paying lip service or not. If you're a Christian, and you stand on a street corner and yell to the world that the heathen homosexuals are going to burn in hell, and then proceed to badger anyone you see that you think might be homosexual, THEN YOU'RE NOT LIVING THE WORD OF GOD! If you live the word of God, you'd leave them alone because it's not up to you to decide where they're going and if they reject God, that's not your problem and you can't cure them or berate them or anything else. "He who is without sin shall cast the first stone." "How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye', when all the time there is a plank in your own eye?" How can a Christian really ignore these kinds of teachings? Am I truly the only one who actually thinks about what they mean? I'm not going to shove my beliefs about God down anyone's throat. But for those who do believe, don't you think they should know better? I certainly do. With the way things go, though, I'm beginning to feel that I'm in the minority on that one...guess I'm gonna have to start going to church again. I need the reassurance that someone out there will teach the word of God with humanity instead of callous disregard for people.
Where was I? Oh, yeah. Turning 25. I've had a strange year and a half. An engagement, a fire, and broken engagement...a few men thrown into the mix. It's been so hectic. Maybe now life will be better than it has been from now on. I certainly hope so. And now I'm all out of writing steam, so I think I'm gonna go and make some breakfast....
The Sensless Random
After a week of vacation, now I will have to return to work. I am not particularily looking forward to that. Oh well.
I had a good time on my birthday. Someone asked me if it was the best birthday I had or if there was a better one. I don't have good or bad birthdays. I figure that I shouldn't be celebrating them at all, what with it being the same as any other day for most of the world. Big deal that I was born on that day, so were lots of other people. The only thing that makes that day special is because I was born on it. And since I'm not that special -- or foolish enough to think I am -- I don't think I should celebrate it. I'm just average Jane eking out a living, thank you very much. I also got really drunk -- something which I don't look forward to. Being wasted is dangerous. I can blackout, and when I'm that drunk that I never recall what I did, I have a tendancy to roam around alone. That's the trouble I had with my purse. I don't know if it was stolen or if I left it somewhere. I hate myself for ever getting that drunk. It's disgusting and so not professional. Besides, what good is it to get that drunk? How do I know if I'm having a good time or not if I can't remember a damn thing? It's not cool and I feel stupid when I have that much to drink. But I did have fun, of what I can remember. So I guess it wasn't all that bad.
And now I'm going to go get some well deserved rest. No more partying for me during the week. Bar Mouse needs a rest.
After a week of vacation, now I will have to return to work. I am not particularily looking forward to that. Oh well.
I had a good time on my birthday. Someone asked me if it was the best birthday I had or if there was a better one. I don't have good or bad birthdays. I figure that I shouldn't be celebrating them at all, what with it being the same as any other day for most of the world. Big deal that I was born on that day, so were lots of other people. The only thing that makes that day special is because I was born on it. And since I'm not that special -- or foolish enough to think I am -- I don't think I should celebrate it. I'm just average Jane eking out a living, thank you very much. I also got really drunk -- something which I don't look forward to. Being wasted is dangerous. I can blackout, and when I'm that drunk that I never recall what I did, I have a tendancy to roam around alone. That's the trouble I had with my purse. I don't know if it was stolen or if I left it somewhere. I hate myself for ever getting that drunk. It's disgusting and so not professional. Besides, what good is it to get that drunk? How do I know if I'm having a good time or not if I can't remember a damn thing? It's not cool and I feel stupid when I have that much to drink. But I did have fun, of what I can remember. So I guess it wasn't all that bad.
And now I'm going to go get some well deserved rest. No more partying for me during the week. Bar Mouse needs a rest.
Friday, November 01, 2002
Sometimes It Sucks
I haven't really been writing here much. It's poetry season for me. So I pull out and dust off all of the bitter resentments I have and write beautiful touching poetry, the kind that makes you want to jump off a bridge in glory. Forget about happiness. I prefer to write good depressing poetry. Most depression-written poetry is sad poetry, not just in feeling but also in subject matter. There's a million words and degrees of feeling depressed and I want to write about every one of them. The down side to this is that I get really depressed. I suppose it would help if I wasn't depressed about a few things to begin with. I'm also frustrated with a few things, so that adds a bit to my sour moods. Yesterday, I tried not to cry at work. God, that was so hard. The hard part, though, about choking back tears is that, when you do want to cry, you can't. I nearly burst into tears when I was on the phone with Mr. Blond. I had to take deep breaths to keep it together. I hate crying in front of people, even if it is over the phone. I prefer to cry alone, just me, and yell and curse and such. (I can, however, cry in front of other people. In fact, if I weren't me, I would prolly enjoy watching me go insane. It would make for good entertainment. Don't believe me? Go read about my nervous breakdown in March.) I think the worst is over, but I still feel a little down. I think I'm going to go have coffee and cheer myself up....
I haven't really been writing here much. It's poetry season for me. So I pull out and dust off all of the bitter resentments I have and write beautiful touching poetry, the kind that makes you want to jump off a bridge in glory. Forget about happiness. I prefer to write good depressing poetry. Most depression-written poetry is sad poetry, not just in feeling but also in subject matter. There's a million words and degrees of feeling depressed and I want to write about every one of them. The down side to this is that I get really depressed. I suppose it would help if I wasn't depressed about a few things to begin with. I'm also frustrated with a few things, so that adds a bit to my sour moods. Yesterday, I tried not to cry at work. God, that was so hard. The hard part, though, about choking back tears is that, when you do want to cry, you can't. I nearly burst into tears when I was on the phone with Mr. Blond. I had to take deep breaths to keep it together. I hate crying in front of people, even if it is over the phone. I prefer to cry alone, just me, and yell and curse and such. (I can, however, cry in front of other people. In fact, if I weren't me, I would prolly enjoy watching me go insane. It would make for good entertainment. Don't believe me? Go read about my nervous breakdown in March.) I think the worst is over, but I still feel a little down. I think I'm going to go have coffee and cheer myself up....
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