Oh ye of selective faith

Here's a common conversation between aunts, uncles, and parents when I was a kid:

Adult 1: I always take the eucharist, but I never take the wine.

Adult 2: Oh, I know! They wipe it off every time, but you can just never be sure.

Adult 1: You never can.

Adult 2: I love God, but I'm not getting a cold!

Adult 1: Seriously. It's a flawed way of doing it.

They believe in transubstantiation. That takes a lot of faith. When I was a kid, I figured that sacredness killed surface germs. The reward for our faith and courage was not catching a cold, that is. All I'm saying is, I never once got sick after going to mass. It doesn't seem that unbelievable, comparatively.

Lusting after ink.

I imagine that when men read those magazines full of pretty girls, they're aware they'll never get a woman like that. It's just fun to look. That's how I feel when I look at the leather satchels and fountain pens in Levenger. I hope my anime messenger bag and Pilot pens don't think my dedication is wavering. The magic is still there.

What do you call a seance leader who can't stop laughing?

Another dream

I'll post any interesting dreams here. I might have already. The latest one (Friday morning, 1/23/09) played heavily on my love of online gaming. When I die in World of Warcraft, I can walk around in spirit form and find my body. Well, in this dream, I lived in a futuristic society... think Logan's Run meets The Jetsons--an eerie dystopia that was obnoxiously convenient: Robots everywhere, high up in the air, and if you ever made it off of the city there was a raw frontier below. Only there was no strange creature/robot screaming "Fish! Protein! Gifts from the sea!"

So anyway, there are these intruders who look a lot like Jawas with gray robes. Their eyes are still red, but they speak in this low, kind of electric gurgle. They've killed off all the politicians and have taken over. I try and fight them, and I die. So I wander around in my spirit form trying to get someone to raise me from the dead, or cast a "Resurrection Spell," I guess. I can touch things but not people. I start throwing papers into the air and moving things around, trying to guide someone to me.

Jake finally follows me to my body and puts his hands on my head. He says something, and I wake up with a start. But I'm possessed by something, and he has to kill me again or I'm going to kill him. So he tries it again, only this time he has some kind of gun ready that will shoot a sticky/putty-like substance that will pin me to the wall so someone can drive the evil spirit out. So he figures out how to make me me again, and we decide to sneak out of the city.

I want to get a haircut and a new face, so we go to this nearby salon (yes, it's that easy in the future). I picked out a slightly similar face with a few subtle changes, and I had them cut off nearly all of my hair. Then, we put on hoodies and snuck past the rows of Jawa-like politicians walking through the streets.

It's kind of a shameful dream. I didn't even try to stop the Jawa men. Frankly, there were no details in the dream as to why I wanted to stop them. Maybe their coup was for the good of humanity. Maybe they killed off corrupt, evil men, and I didn't realize it. So, it's open to each individual--were the Jawa-like men evil, or did I misunderstand them? Is that why I left? At any rate, we made it to the land and ran off into the mountains. It was very quiet, and the sky was full of cirrus clouds.

Venti is twenty.

I loathe Starbucks coffee. Well, I loathe U.S.A. Starbucks coffee. The one in London was much better. But the point here is this: If I'm on campus and PJ's and CC's are both closed--leaving only the Seattle-based coffee shop--I'd rather nurse a caffeine headache.

But at LEAST their word for an extra-large coffee means something. Venti means 20 in Italian. At CC's, it's infuriating enough not to be able to say "large," but to have to say "Super-grande please!" Come on now. It feels like there was so little thinking involved in the naming of their huge cup of coffee.

And HEY! Community Coffee is a Louisiana company, so why don't we at least use French? If we're going to hop on the complicating-coffee bandwagon, we might as well use the language of our ancestors. Oh well. Grande is still grande in French. No one would bother to pronounce it differently. This is where I tell myself to pick my battles carefully.

PJ's coffee is mild and mediocre, but I like going there. I'm allowed to say "small, medium, large" without being stoned with stale muffins.

Lost and found

I'm having one of those moments where doubt leaves me and I'm 100% convinced that there is an afterlife. It feels good. I'm thinking about a few people right now that I've lost. If they are gone forever, there's no comfort for me at all in this world. But they've never felt closer to me than now. Thank you for the peace. I'm ready for bed now.

The sadism bike of sneaky tripping

So I'm walking to class this evening, and this man speeds by me on a bike. It looks like a bar is poking out from one of his wheels. When I look closer I realize it's a single training wheel on one side. But this was my thought process before realizing that:

"What kind of sick bastard has a stick poking out of his bike's wheel? He could trip someone! He's passing an old woman; what if he.... that sneaky.... oh, it's a training wheel."

I liked my hypothesis better than the truth even though it's horrible.

Letting stories end.

I challenge Hollywood and its workers to not make any sequels or remakes for a full year. I'm so tired of a movie coming out and hearing, "Oh, I saw the original when you weren't even ALIVE" or "This might be even better than the first one!" Cowards!

The first preacher of the season

If I remember correctly, the fire and brimstone preachers always crawl out in the Spring semesters. At least the man I encountered today didn't bring his children. It's unfair and a little cruel to subject kids to the level of mocking that skeptical students are capable of.

He held a sign that said "YOU DESERVE HELL" in yellow and green letters. A Methodist, he assured us that he did not represent the Methodist church--only the kingdom of God. I'm sure the Methodists are grateful. I respect him more than the others--not only for coming alone and not using children for his cause, but for opening his ears to our questions. Sure, his answers were slanted and did not satisfy the crowd, but he answered everyone as well as he could.

It takes resolve and courage to do what he does. Those are great qualities in theory. I don't agree with much of what he said, but I his actions remind me of one of my most solid beliefs: God knows and has mercy on those who truly want to help the world. This guy might not be helping, but he's taking action the best way he knows how. I would have used a more positive approach. You know what they say--you catch more flies with honey. It's difficult to ridicule the man, because that's what he'll have to listen to all day. Why throw another comment on the pile?

I've argued with myself about that "solid" belief of mine. George Carlin did too when he said that motivated people are the most dangerous. Of course many of them are. But when a misguided person does more harm than good, who comes forward to tell them so?---a person who is motivated to do so. So it's somehow, sometime going to even out, at least in my mind. And if it doesn't well, at least there will be people who can say that they tried.

Good luck, angry Methodist man, on your own path to clarity. I don't think that every student deserves hell. Maybe God gives everyone a 4-year grace period. We're bombarded with information, and it feels almost arrogant to assume which path is best when so many look promising. My four years are up. Good thing I believe in forgiveness.

Sometimes half empty is better.

For example:

My mp3 player is still half empty!

Edit:

Well, I'm back on the payroll. I don't have very many hours, but I can pick up extras that people need taken now. I couldn't have been a freelance shift-pick-upper without the couple of hours I'm working now. All is well again for now. I'm still hoping to tutor a bit.

Handkerchief on a stick, worn shoes, and a can of beans.

I'm jobless.

The hours for my old desk are a first-come first-serve thing since I'm a student worker, and I couldn't get the ones I needed. I've been there almost 2 years, and suddenly I'm gone. It was an enjoyable job most of the time, and I'm going to miss it.

A part-time job is the one thing that makes me feel apart from a lot of the people at LSU. There's an unusually high population of spoiled kids. It's not all their fault; they're Lafayette imports who have never had to work because their parents are comfortable. I don't have to work, but I do have to work if I don't want to feel like a complete bum.

Mom and Dad tell me to relax and enjoy my last year and a half of college. My idea of enjoying it is learning a little more every day what it means to be a REAL adult. Of course I'm not there yet, but keeping a job is important to me, because it makes me feel like I won't be afraid of hard work later.

I don't want to fall screaming into the world of grownup-ness right after graduation. I'd like to be calm, prepared and confident. God, I'm a bum. I'm a huge bum.

A new semester

I'm finally getting over the feelings of guilt and regret about my school situation. I'm 24 and have about a year and a half of school left because I just had to give culinary school a try. And because I didn't always work I have no money. And because I have no money I'm still VERY dependent (although now I'm RABIDLY against not working through the year--and I save from every paycheck). At any rate, I'm not where I wanted to be at this age.

I'm not really looking for a "don't feel that way" speech, because I give that one to myself all the time, and it's nothing I haven't heard before. When I look back, I hope that smiling comes easier when I look over those John Folse Institute years and am able to be just thankful for the opportunity---without other negative emotions ruining it.

Growing up in a largely Republican area of Louisiana has given me an unclean start, politically. But no one has a clean one, I suppose. When Obama was elected, here were my thoughts: Well, I read up about a lot of his platforms, and it doesn't sound too bad, but everyone is so scared. I wonder what I'm missing. I guess the best thing to do is get behind him since he's elected now and keep on reading. At LSU there were parties outside the dorms. The more spoiled-looking students who lived there--the ones who got all their information from mom and dad and nothing else--moped in the lobby as the president elect gave his speech. They glared at the happy people outside. They know nothing of their own doom!

Maybe I should care more or put more emotion into it, but there is so much information to go through about both sides, who can know everything? Who can say beyond a doubt that everything is going to be ruined? Well, not experts, because they disagree all the time! It's hard to say to my friends and family, but I feel hopeful. I don't belch out the mantra of "change" like a lot of his more wide-eyed, clueless followers, but I'm hopeful.

Roar

http://news.yahoo.com/s/space/mysteryroarfromfarawayspacedetected

Scientists have heard an incredibly loud noise coming from space--radio waves that are about 6 times louder than anything they could have expected. I don't know enough about science to even think about what this could be. I frequent a forum filled with Lovecraft fans, so out of habit, my first thought was Cthulu.

Seriously, though, I hope they find out. As uneducated as I am about this kind of thing, I'm very very curious.

I feel a little cold coming on.

My new favorite TV show is Dexter. I used to really dislike most television, and then I learned about that, The Office, and It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia, the last of which I've yet to actually check out. But it looks great. Cartoons used to be my thing--the only thing I'd watch.

I've maintained my attachment to cartoons and comic books into adulthood. No matter how good CG gets, there are still such big limitations on live action shows and movies. In animation, because everything that's happening is either drawn or created by a computer, everything looks seamless. I'm not thinking about how much work they did (or DIDN'T do) to make an effect. I guess it sucks me in way more than most television.

Home Movies is an underrated cartoon. It was made for adults, but people automatically get turned off because the main character is an 8-year-old. The dialogue is clever and snappy, and it's even funnier coming from elementary school kids. It makes me sad when people won't give it a chance. So much TV writing out there stinks. It's a shame when a talented guy's creation gets the brush-off just because of the medium he chose.

create

I have some ideas about the 57 year old man staring in the corner (it's a corner, not just a wall). None are just right. I'm getting way too into this exercise. An older short story of mine came to mind this afternoon. I put it down because I couldn't make it sound like anything better than whiny drama. One of my biggest weaknesses is my fear of sounding too much like this or that. Learning to get excited again and throw away logic for my first draft--that's a feeling I miss. Ego makes you inhibited, because you never want to look foolish. I feel more ready to write now.

Spring Cleaning

I've put off removing my things from my old room at Mom and Dad's house, and now it's probably going to be a week-long ordeal... whenever I decide to do it. I've realized over the past year or so that I'm not a sentimental person. I keep things because I'm too lazy to go through them, but I don't collect a lot of stuff hoping to look at them a month later and reminisce. The exception to this is bells. I love bells and cow figurines.

Anyway, I have Jesus and Mary statues in my room that I've just learned were painted and gifted years ago by my late great grandmother's crazy neighbor. Apparently she changed personalities depending on her weight. Now I really, really want to keep them.

My mirror broke.

I can't be bothered to look it up now, but someone sometime said something along the lines of:

We usually have in ourselves the things we dislike in other people.

This is sadly true for me, or at least it used to be. Up until recently, I was a notorious projector of my own faults and fears. The unhappy recipient of this was my significant other. He never complained about it, because he knew that I knew the truth. Even when I didn't admit it to him, he had faith that whatever problem I had would blow over that night when I went to bed and thought about my words. My accusations had no roots--at least in him. Realizing this over and over taught me to be responsible for my own feelings and my own actions.

People cannot help how they react to things that I say and do--that's part of their personality.
Sometimes, people can purposely egg others on or push their buttons. But this was rarely true with me. Not only did I often see my faults in others, but I imagined my faults in others. What an unfair person I was. I'm still nowhere near saintly, but knowing that I can speak directly about my feelings and my worries instead of transferring the burden and blame to another comforts me greatly at night.

That said, I've come to realize that one of my pet peeves is bullshit---not the kind of bullshit you hear from a drunk man boasting that he can bench 350. No, I'm referring to the bullshit I used to spew myself. I guess once I started seeing it more from the outside instead of in myself, I realized how awful it is. This disgust makes me cringe, though, because it makes me feel like I felt when I did Weight Watchers. Everyone was a target for my health preaching, because I myself was finally on the way to a healthy life. I don't know how much that counts when it comes to living a good and moral life, but that person's never the life of the party. As comfortable as I am with my view from the soap box, it's time to get just as comfortable on eye level.

Therefore, my next goal is to try and channel my frustration. By now you all think I'm egotistical, and you're right. It's another thing I have to work on. But leave this entry knowing that I'm aware that my failings are my own to work on, and I plan to . Becoming a better person who tries harder to relate to people---that's my New Year's Resolution.