Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts
Showing posts with label christianity. Show all posts

Monday, August 6, 2007

Are you the sweet invention of a lover's dream, or are you really as wonderful as you seem?

I've been thinking a lot about afterlives lately, not in the least because I wandered around a cemetery today. Now, before people start saying "OMG I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU THINK THAT," keep in mind there is a world of difference between what I WANT to believe and what I actually DO believe.

I want to believe that there really is a Heaven like the Western Monotheists believe, and a Hell like the Muslims and Christians believe, because I want to imagine the looks on the faces of the very hypocritical, judgmental fundie types when they get to the pearly gates and realize that they've been denied access to that exclusive club.

Personally, I don't know what happens when we die. When I feel sciency, I think maybe nothing happens, and we just... die. When I feel more spiritual, and think there's a soul that needs to be dealt with, I think maybe reincarnation.

But I want to believe that since my god is generally good, and evil is a result of mistakes (I don't believe in an infallible god, I think we're all an experiment, of sorts, trial-and-error until my god gets the right results) like harmful genetic mutations, or else because of free will, like a parent abusing their son so the son grows up to hit his wife, etc; thus, there is no one who really belongs in a Hell. My god understands that humans are ultimately destined to make mistakes, and can find a bit of good even in the worst of humans.

So if there is a heaven-- and though I don't think there is, I sort of want there to be, like how I want to find a genie or gain telekinesis-- and we are all admitted there, what would happen? The Christian idea of Heaven as devoid of "sin" and fluffy clouds and angel choirs and no sex seems boring and unpleasant. I think heaven would have to be unique for each person, so that if you want the fluffy angel-clouds you see them, and if you want a 24-hour eternal rave with lots of alcohol, no hangovers, and lots of skimpily-clad loose women, you see that, too. And if you'd really rather just cease existing, that's certainly okay as well.

Of course, the problem with this is that Person A (Jane Average) might want a heaven where Person B (George Clooney) is their personal servant, masseuse, and lover, but perhaps Mr. Clooney would rather lounge on a beach with nymphets or whatever, and really doesn't know who Jane Average is, anyway. So I figure this heaven wouldn't be a tangible place, regardless, so Jane can have Georgie massage her and whisper sweet nothings, but that doesn't mean he's seeing the same thing. The George Clooney with Jane is not the real thing, but rather the ideal Jane wants. We see what we want, we interact with who we want, etc.

And sometimes the heavens would overlap, so two people could share the same one, but they'd never know for sure if they were sharing or the other person saw something different, and it wouldn't really matter, regardless. Such matters aren't really important, long-term. Eternity counts as long-term, right?

Even though I don't think this will happen, it's fun to think about. What would your personal heaven be like? I think mine would be a little beach house that was always miraculously clean, with a big wraparound porch that I could sit on and look at the ocean, and a beach where no one walked to disturb the view from my floor-to-ceiling windows. And if I wanted I could walk down a sandy path through the dunes lined with roses, and come out on a little downtown street, where the shops were constantly changing based on what I wanted to look for, and everything was free and fit me perfectly and I looked fabulous in it all.

And at the end of the street there would be a library, an enormous, massive, incredible library, with every book ever written and some that were just repeated aloud, all accessible and in a language I can understand. I would never get a headache, reading, and if I finished, say, Shakespeare's Taming of the Shew, and wondered, Is this actually a feminist doctrine or can I take it at face value? I would simply look up, and Shakespeare himself would be there, ready to talk, and I could get every question I had answered. He would, of course, speak modern English, but in a British accent, because it's my heaven and Shakespeare can talk in modern British English if I want him too. You know who else will talk in modern English? Hesiod. So there.

Anyway, presumably I would not ALWAYS want to read, and I could go back to my little beach-house in the dunes (maybe taking a book with me), and it would get JUST cool enough for a nice fire and some candles, and if I felt like it, a certain someone would wander out of the kitchen with some mugs of hot cocoa with little marshmallows that didn't melt in the heat like REAL ones, and we would debate the nature of the universe while curled up together on a sofa with cocoa.

My heaven has no cherubs or saints, just a little house, a warm fire, all the knowledge in the world and all the love that I need.

Incidentally, my hell would be if they just left me in my body, fully aware and feeling everything but unable to do anything, react in any way... and then my wishes to be cremated were ignored, and I would feel, be aware of, my own decomposition.

Anyone else know what their heaven would be like, if there was a heaven and they could actually get in?

Sunday, March 4, 2007

"An admirer is too shy to meet you."

I tagged along with Loquatia to dinner today, and ate with her and the CI kids. They're all really nice, but I have to say, I wasn't really expecting them to say grace... in a dining hall...

And I really wasn't expecting Loquatia to ask me if it was okay. What, was she expecting I'd flip out and get terribly insulted? It's grace. I bowed my head and waited while the girl asked that everyone be able to finish their homework tonight, "especially those of us who have essays due tomorrow morning, Lord."

Besides, I'm a theist, I can say grace just as well as anyone else and all I have to do to a Christian grace is think "god" instead of "lord" or "Jesus."

The dinner was okay, though I was quiet the whole meal on account of not really knowing any of them except Loquatia and Comisa. The solemn tone at the beginning quickly devolved into biting the heads or bottoms off of gummy bears and making them into multicolor mutants.

Ah, college students.

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That was going to be my only story today, besides the Picard video you are all required to watch below (seriously, I joined YouTube just to show you this, so watch it), but I was talking to Writer Guy and the subject of self-esteem-- specifically, mine-- came up. I tried to explain in the best possible way that I've struggled with it for a long time, but I know I have a problem with it and I'm trying to work on it. As in, I tried to explain it in a way that didn't make me seem needy or like I was fishing for compliments (I never fish for compliments, at least not intentionally. I assume those aren't actually compliments, but rather attempts to make me feel better, and thus can be ignored). I think I was successful. I hope so, anyway.

But the important/interesting part was that he told me if he could ever help in that regard, I should let him know, so I was able to inform him that he didn't really need to make any special effort, he's managed to help improve my self-esteem already.

I may have a default setting with the self-esteem of an old grapefruit (they have body image problems, didn't you know?), but at least it improves drastically at the slightest provocation...

My Love Element Is Earth

In love, I have consistency and integrity.
For me, love is all about staying grounded and centered.

I attract others with my zest for life and experiences.
My flirting style is defined by setting the scene, creating a unique moment in time.

Steady progress and stability are the cornerstones of my love life.
I may take things too slowly, but I never put my heart at risk.

I connect best with: Fire

I should avoid: Wood

Me and another Earth element: need each other too much to build a good foundation.

Tuesday, February 20, 2007

"The greatest danger could be your stupidity."

Some cool new links! Cute Jewess is a blog all about dating and life in general; more single-girl antics over at This Fish Needs A Bicycle. For weird stories, gadgets, and random stuff, check out Odd Planet; and for a mildly disturbing and yet often hilarious view of what college would be like if I went to LMU and if I wasn't... well... me, there's You Are Sketch. Check 'em out!

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Most of today was devoted to my Chemistry paper, which was miserable, on account of it being a four person project that I basically did alone. I didn't do all the research, but I was doing all the writing... Maritima sent her section, and was helping me, but one of the other girls sent me one sentence and the other waited until an hour before the class started to send her part. Grr. I did have time to do some last-minute English homework, though, which was good because it was already a day late.

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I went to the "Secrets" show put up by Christian Impact with Loquatia. Basically everyone's been writing secrets on little cards and putting a picture with them, and the end result gets put up in this gallery f secrets. It's all anonymous, of course. I'd say the most common secrets were:

-like to sleep naked (uhm, yeah, why is that a secret? who cares?)
-wish that someone thought they were beautiful
-masturbate
-doubt the existence of God/doubt their faith

But there were some that were less common, like liking it when a relative touched them inappropriately or told someone they were Christian to get into their pants. I'd guess the most common was the wanting to feel beautiful, though. I can understand that sentiment, I was going to do it myself except it's not really a secret that I want to feel beautiful. I don't have many secrets, and the ones I do have are scary enough that I refuse to admit them even to myself.

After we saw the gallery, Loquatia introduced me to her CI friends. Everyone was really nice, though I was still uncomfortable because they were people, after all (Some were boys, too, compounding the problem). It's mildly depressing to hang out with CI kids though because it kinda just reminds me that there is a definite social circle that you can get though being part of a religion-- any religion, just not Christianity-- and those are the people that are nice, clean-cut, and friendly. Well, usually. It kind of makes me sad that I won't really ever have that kind of social network that Christian, Jewish, and, in certain areas, Muslim people have just for being involved in their faith.

Oh well. It's kinda hard to join a group called "Christian Impact" if you aren't Christian and half the time you don't even like their impact.

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Ugh. I promised my RA that I'd write about a "defining moment" in my life for the next issue of our bathroom newspaper, the Hub'Bub. Alas, it appears that my life is ill-defined, as I can't come up with a single moment that doesn't involve talking about my depression. It appears I am not defined by happy moments. I don't know if he wants me to do something upbeat or if talking about depression is okay, but even then, chances are this is going to be the first time most of these people even hear (er, read) my name. Do I really want anyone to associate me with depression?

I think I might want to do when I overcame my fear of death. Does that sound defining?

How I Am In Love

I take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time.

I give completely and unconditionally in relationships.

I tend to get very attached when I'm with someone. I want to see my love all the time.

I love my partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change.

I stay in love for a long time, even if I'm not loved back. When I fall, I fall hard.

Tuesday, November 28, 2006

"A Different World Cannot Be Built By Indifferent People"

Today is the Egyptian feast of Hathor-Sekhmet. As in, Egyptian celebration of the fertility goddess Hathor. So pretty standard fertility rites. Knock yourselves out.

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I have this really bad habit of eavesdropping, which is to say that I have a bad habit of not not listening, and consequently overhearing stuff that was not intended for my ears. This is especially true for when my roommates have phone conversations in the room when I'm studying. It's not that I'm trying to overhear, I just do.

Anyway, normally nothing of interest is said, but last night Loquatia was talking on the phone with her mother, and she described this movie she'd seen in sociology about transgendered people, and I got the distinct impression that she was seriously questioning the tenets of her Christian faith regarding them. She was calling to ask her mother what Christians were supposed to think about people who despite their biological gender, considered themselves the opposite gender from a very young age. As in, long before it could be a result of rebelliousness or something.

This struck me for two reasons: first, that she needed to call her mother to know what to think. That's the only problem I have with religion: some followers believe that all their thoughts have to be dictated by the faith. But more important, I think, is that she was thinking about transgenderation to begin with. That's why we're at college- to learn and to broaden our horizons. If Loquatia could come out of school with doubts about the validity of anti-transgender claims, then clearly her education was worth it. Whatever the pastor may say.

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Countdown to Christmas Break: 17 Days.

I'm working on my final project for Myth, the epic poem in iambic pentameter. It's due Now, "And you did in distress no more sing sweet" may be iambic pentameter (or close), but it's lousy grammar... See, I wrote the whole thing first, a seventy-line poem about Orpheus and Eurydice, in something vaguely resembling pentameter, at least, if not iambs. Now I'm going through and carefully correcting each line to the proper meter. So "Who swiftly to Hades Hermes did take" becomes "Who swift to Hades Hermes Guide did take" and the aforementioned line was originally the much more logical-sounding "And you in sadness no more did sing sweet."

Writing seventy lines of poetry in rhyming couplets took me half an hour. Correcting the first nine of those lines to something close to iambic pentameter took me an hour and a half.

It's gonna be a fun week.

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Some bright individual has either abandoned an egg salad sandwich in a particularly secretive spot, or exploded a stink bomb on the main stairwell. It smells SO BAD. Nasty. I really hope they live in this dorm, so they have to deal with the effects of this prank like the rest of us...

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Loquatia is listening to a Christian Radio talk show, right now, and they're telling a story- it's for kids, but she grew up on it and she loves it. It's weird, though. They're telling the story of this family that gets robbed on Christmas Eve and how they "pull together with the spirit of Christmas" and sit around reading the Bible about the birth of Jesus.

Now, I dunno about you, but if I had a family and was robbed on Christmas Day, I'd give my kids a hug and call up Auntie Shrewd or someone, tell her what happened, get the turkey out of the fridge (because no one would steal a raw turkey, I mean, come on) and go celebrate at her house, then replace the gifts a few days later. I certainly wouldn't expect my kids to sit around while I told them Nativity stories.

This is why I don't like Christian talk radio.

Speaking of the birth of Jesus, I have decided that I want to see The Nativity Story, when it comes out in theaters. I'm not Christian but I like that story, and it looks like they took an interesting approach to it, focusing on Joseph and Mary's views of the situation rather than rambling on about the glory of God. The problem is that I haven't a clue who I'd go with: I don't go to movies alone, and my usual movie buddy, Shrewd, most likely doesn't want to go to a Christmas movie. Also, whoever I go with would have to deal with my after-movie discussion, so that rules out anyone who is particularly sensitive to having a heathen discuss their faith. Which rules out my dad, who is just now starting to regret not raising us Congregationalist. I think it was the conversation Shrewd and I had about selling our souls to the Devil.

Maybe my mom would go with me.

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Now I have to go read for Myth. We're supposed to read Book 1, 2, and 3 in the Iliad. One problem: We weren't given the Iliad. We were given the Odyssey. So I have to go buy a book. And I'm doing that now, because the talk radio has switched to someone ranting about how we'd all go to hell if not for the grace of God, and we don't deserve anything that God gives us, and how we're all inherently a bunch of lustful, slothful, greedy liars. The latter part may be true, but honestly, I can only take so much preaching...