Round two...

Who wants to put the over under on what color it will be next week?

Can I get an amen?

Today has already been an inexplicably boring day and it’s not even three o'clock yet. It's raining and all day yesterday my Thursday felt like a Friday, so I don't even have that great, it's Friday thing going on for me. I had a dream last night that I was cheated on, so I woke up in a bad mood and defeated anyways. The drive to work was just stupid. I’m an English major and honestly, that’s the best way I can describe it. So I guess this means only one thing…yep, a post on religion.

I grew up with religion, though not in a very strict sense. It was always there, like a benchwarmer for me, waiting to get in the big game. As of yet, I haven’t had much use for it, though I can’t say for sure I never will. I was confirmed Presbyterian, but that was the last time I actually went to church. The worst thing I can think of is making up your mind about religion without ever going to church. It’s like trying to take the MCAT without ever having cracked Gray’s Anatomy.

I prefer Thomas Paine’s view of “My mind is my own church.” I’m a walking contradiction. A natural born skeptic on one hand, but I do believe nothing is impossible. I guess that romantic part of me is what leaves me open to anything. To the possibility that we can create our own religion and be just as fulfilled as those who choose to belong to someone else's.

Not believing in anything at all would make me sad. I believe in goodwill and conviction and myself. I believe in human compassion. Democracy. Science. Hope. You don’t have to be religious to have faith. For a while there I didn’t know where I fit, I was somewhere between agnostic and atheist, though I really don’t have any clear cut desire to be any one thing.

I think one of my biggest problems with religion is that I don’t like people telling me what to believe. Part of me also feels like people use god or religion as their excuse. My friend died in a car accident because it was part of god’s plan. I am homeless because this is what god wants for me. I murdered him because my religion called for it. That’s just bullshit. Your friend died because someone else was drunk and driving. You're homeless because you can't get a job because your parents didn't make you go to school. You killed him because your DSM-IV test indicates that you're legally insane. It's all about free will. I can't stand when people don't man up to the consequences of their actions and it happens more frequently every day. There is no integrity in placing blame and for me, that's no way to live.

Though the saying “religion is the opiate of the masses” rings particularly true with me, I can see the good in it. When people can’t explain why bad things happen in the world, religion is a good place to turn to. Religion means all is not lost. Religion is hope. I see the worth in it, but it’s just not for me. I see too much potential in the human race and sooner or later, we’ll get it right. To me, that’s much more powerful than any religion.

One lucite heel away from a career in Vegas.

Dancin for dollahs, baby!



The image quality isn't that great, but you get the picture. My head needs caution tape around it right now. Mmmmm bad dye jobs.

Doesn't share well with others.

In an age where the "share everything" mentality has become the mantra of all twenty-somethings, I have to think, why?

Why do I feel compelled to churn away at my keyboard, advancing screen after screen of thought after thought. Why do I not feel some sort of satisfaction from censoring the good parts and keeping them for myself?

There was a time when writing was a very private thing for me. When I could sit down, get black on white and come full circle within myself. Some people figure things out with equations or by talking it out with a therapist until it makes sense. I figure things out on paper. With words. With the way they sound. How each one connects to each other. And after I place that last period, my thoughts somehow end up making sense.

That hasn't come as easily to me lately and I can't help but feel that in gaining an audience, I've also lost something.

I think there's something to being transparent. To disclose without fear or favor. But lately, all of this capricious divulging seems purposeless and unoriginal. It seems driven by a motivation that's foreign to me. And I don't feel as close to my thoughts as I usually do.

Maybe it's because instead of coming full circle on paper, I've finally done it out there. In real life.

And now. There's just less to figure out.

Memories like fingerprints...

I just finished watching Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind on HBO. Am I the only person who thought it was so sad? I cried through a lot of it (not that that's a real feat because I cry through Jif commercials), but I kept wondering what kind of heartbreak does a person have to go through to want to erase another person from their memory? How much love do you have to feel you wasted on another person to never want to remember their face? It affected me. I won’t give anything away, but watching the two characters struggle with leaving those memories behind was fucking heart wrenching. I guess that’s the point though.

I’m taking it all to the grave with me. Every tear-stained, miserable, anger-inducing, I-Can’t-Live-Anymore, self esteem shattering, awful memory I can hold onto. And I’ll collect them like a miser along the way, selfishly hoarding them to relish when I’m old and unintelligible, reliving each delicious moment with a god damn smile on my face. It will be this mental slide show that will tell me I really lived.

The state of my union address.

These days I can't seem to catch a break. I usually have a pretty rock solid sense of self, but lately I am finding cracks in the foundation that make me think otherwise. I don't see things as clearly as I used to. I have been making irrational decisions and questioning truths that have always been unwavering veritables in my life. It's weird, I'm unraveling. I'm damn near a mess on the inside.

In the past, when something like this would happen to me I would wait it out. I'd wake up in the morning and travel throughout my day and somewhere along the way something would tell me this is right. Or that's what you should do. Well I've been the most aware I have been in months, more present in my own life than ever, and yet I can't see it. I can't see the answer. It's like looking through a window in the rain. Even my own reflection is blurry and faceless. I'm unsure of myself, teetering around in a body that doesn't feel like mine.

I can't even talk about it because I can't even describe it. Interesting, I know; I've never not had the words for something. I liken it to someone blindfolding me and then driving me to the middle of nowhere and leaving me there. I remember where it was that I came from and feel that burning sense of longing in my chest to go back, but I just don't know how to get there and I can't find the tools to help me on my way. No one is looking for me, no one even notices I am gone. Part of me wonders if just starting over in this new place isn't easier? And oh my god *smack upside the head* that it could be better?

I can't get away from it either. Pervasion. All of my thoughts, all of the time. This lack of self-assurance is starting to freak me out.

Semi-strained kind of life.

There are times

When I feel
so tired

That my life
seeps through me

Like tea
through a strainer

With bits of me

Sticking
to the spoon

Is it weird to sleep in your shoes?

Because I've fallen in love and can't be kept away from these.

The difference between things.

How unimportant
You

Compared to
A universe

Dog barks
Breeze moves
Something grows

You are needy more than needed

How unimportant you

Compared to
A universe

How small

No-no-notorius

In light of what many call my "sick hockey obsession", I would like to state for the record that I don't like just brutish meat heads. I do, in fact, have an even sicker fascination with aging, British rockers. See below.



The one and only, David Coverdale. He was born to walk alone.



God damn, I wish my name was Rio. Simon Le Bon.



The incomparable Robert Plant. Only when you're not talking about David Coverdale.



Joe Elliott. For obvious reasons.

Can't explain it. Won't explain it. So there.

Question to ponder...

If you could have one song play everytime you walked down the street, like your own theme song, what would it be?

This is a hard one for me. I had to think about this extensively. I think mine would be "Honky Tonk Woman" by the Stones. Yeah, I think definitely that song. What's yours?

Dandelions

Feeling stupid
Doubtful and fierce with regret
Caring like the leaves on the trees blew just for you
Two
Killing time
Breaking your heart
That stupid boy
Makes you feel so worthless
But
You pick a dandelion for him everyday
And think about his perfect smile
As you blow the petals into the wind
Soft wispy whispers of a wish
Goodbye
They are gone and so is he

Taylor Mali on what teachers make.

Finally someone with the balls to say it. This guy is brilliant!

Bandwagon of Uncertainty

Happy Birthday to my best friend.

I spent nine months with your ass in my face and still came out smiling. :)