March in Review:

Books Read: 12 (so far)

Words Written:  ~9k

I finished something like a draft.  It's only about 40k--not novel length, but it's got a beginning, middle, and end.  It's my first completed story in years.  I finished it on the 17th and pretty much quit writing since then.  Mostly, I've been trying to up my reading count.

Third Time's The Charm

Or, my parents are The Best


November 30, 2018

I was on my way to work and somewhere around 5:30 I wrecked my Ford Focus wagon.  After a few months of waiting, the wonderful tax refund was in.  Mom allowed me to use her car to go to and from work.

February 22, 2019

So...I went back to the Buy Here, Pay Here I got the wagon from.  I put $1500 down on a 2003 Toyota Highlander.  I put the insurance on it, paid it six months in advance, and went to the tax accessor's office to get a personalized tag, because it was so wonderful, I bought a car on my own and everything, and personalized!

February 28-29, 2019

I got an oil change and 4 new tires, thinking I was going to have it for a long time.

March 2, 2019

I'm on my way home from work and it's acting up.

March 4-12, 2019

I'm stuck on side of the road on my way to work.  It gets towed.  The place I bought it from does some work on it, and another mechanic does work on it.  I leave the lot...only for it to do THE SAME THING IT WAS DOING BEFORE ALL THE WORK, and I bring it right back.  The next day, they tell me it's not worth it to fix it, and I can pick out something else.  I bring home a 2005 Chevrolet Malibu.  Because there were new tires on the Highlander, the fact that the Malibu was a little more expensive could be overlooked.  The amount owed and the payments would be the same.  Okay, fine.  I had to cancel the insurance I had on the Highlander and put it on the Malibu.  I had to go to the tax accessor's office to get the tag, that came in the day the Highlander had to get towed, transferred to the 'Bu.  There was a trap on the title.  Back to the Buy Here, Pay Here, where they gave me a temporary tag.

March 14, 2019

When I rode around in it, the engine missed, it jerked going into gears...  My sister's boyfriend looked at it.  It's the transmission causing the jerking.  Don't quite know what, but a car is not supposed to jerk when you shift into gears.  It's not supposed to jerk on the highway.

I turned in the keys.  I can't get my money back, or my tires, so whatever, screw all of them.  They've pocketed $1500 of my money, and then a set of brand new tires.  They're not getting anything else from me.

I've learned something about myself here.  If I have nothing to say to someone, I won't say anything to them.  I handed over the keys, said I'm out $2000, and left.

I wrote a bad review on the Better Business Bureau for the Buy Here, Pay Here.  They have no reviews on there, and we'll see if it gets posted or if they do anything.

March 15, 2019--Today!  (Yesterday?  I started this on the 15th, anyway)

While my parents are off to see about getting me a car from a dealership, under their names because I'm broke, I'm home and I get a call from the Buy Here, Pay Here.  It was loose hoses, it's running fine, there's nothing wrong with the transmission.  It's going back on the lot, yada yada.

Well, had you run the first car a little longer and tested it, you would have known it was Shit.  Why were the hoses loose on the second?  I don't trust the mechanic anymore.  Someone else can have the headache.  I only possess a shred of decency, and a modicum of trust.  It's been abused.

And, bugger y'all too. "I'm already looking elsewhere."  The fact I was home and my parents were handling it notwithstanding.

Anyhoo, my parents got me a car.  They were able to walk away with no money down.  It's under their name, but I have to pay for it.  They transferred the insurance on it, again (we're all on the same policy).  I'd paid in advance for the Highlander, which had to have been transferred again.  Mom and I went to the tax accessor's office with my tag and we got it on the new car and finally it's been settled.

It's a 2017 Nissan Altima, with an extended warranty and low mileage.  They love it.  I love it.  I've moved into it, meaning my dragon folding knife (it has a seat belt cutter and window breaker, also, I've grown used to having a box blade at work, and it just seems I always need a knife for something), my CDs, and my phone charger.  I've hooked my phone up to the Bluetooth...

I have to get a better job.

TL; DR:  I wasted $2000, and Daddy had to Fix It.

January in Review--Yes, I'm Back!

Words Written:  ~30k.  I missed one day.  ONE DAY.

Books Read:  18.

I'm on my way back.  It started because I began making myself write everyday since New Year's.  I'm not one for New Year's Resolutions.  The only ones I really make are to read and write more.  That's it.  This is the sum of who I am.  I'm just going to have to accept this.

It took a lot of going back.  What went wrong?  What set me down this path?

So, I looked at my writing files, the old ones, the finished ones.  I looked back at the blog.  I looked back at my Goodreads.

Apparently, my last good year was 2014.  That was when I still read a lot, I wrote a lot.  When I still had dreams?  Before I graduated from university.

I've said it before, and I'll say it here, I regret going past an associate's degree.  It wasn't worth debt.  Nothing is worth going into debt over, and my student loans aren't even that bad compared to most (or literally everyone because mine are just at $10k.

But I can't go back in time and fix it.  I can't even go back in time to slap my younger self.  C'est la vie.

I'm doing a lot of re-reading.  I spent most of last year re-reading stuff, and it seems like that will very much be the case this year.

One of them was the Study Series by Maria V. Snyder.  Now, I had bought the newer books as they came out, but I didn't read them.  They'd just been sitting on the shelf.

Stephen Lawhead's last book was in 2014.  I think the last Dresden book that's not a comic was put out in 2014.  How am I supposed to be okay when my favorite authors aren't putting out books?  Granted, Lawhead's put out another one, just last year, and the next in the series comes out AT THE END OF THIS MONTH, but I digress.  But I don't think it's coincidence.

Life still sucks.  I wrecked my car at the end of November and still can't get a new one.  I have very, very little going for me.

But I don't want to hang myself in the backyard anymore.  The things that would set me off, that would have me wondering if we had rope anywhere don't do that anymore.

It's a terrible thing, to forget who you are.  It's also pretty wonderful to remember and find yourself and follow your bliss again.

Oh yeah, and I had a blast in Scotland.   It seems when all my other dreams were dead, I still held on to that one.  And I want to go back.  I want to go back So Bad.

Journey of 2,000 Miles: Step 2

(Actually, I think it's closer to 4,000 miles, but for continuity's sake.)

My passport book came in two weeks ago.  I've been searching for flights and figuring how I can get there as cheap as possible and all that good stuff.

I bought my plane tickets yesterday.  I made 2 separate bookings:  The first is from Gulfport to Miami.  The second is from Miami to Inverness.  It's 40 days out.

I've been researching baggage restriction, tours, et cetera.  Do I want to buy luggage or just use what I have?  I bought some hiking boots online, and they came in and they fit!!!

Here's hoping and praying nothing goes awry from here to then.

Journey of 2,000 Miles, Step 1

I APPLIED FOR MY PASSPORT TODAY!

I’M SHOPPING FOR PASSPORT COVERS!

A VACATION ABROAD IS SO CLOSE I CAN TASTE IT.

I’ve tried to act as nonchalant about it as possible.  But, but, but, I DID IT.

Of all the things I’ve screwed up, of all the broken dreams, of all the disappointments, heartaches, et cetera, I am one step closer to fulfilling a dream I’ve had since my first Stephen Lawhead Celtic-based fantasy (whichever one that might have been).

Ever since I saw a picture of Leakey's.

Ever since I learned Hatchard's was a real bookshop.

Since I saw artwork in the Louvre when I was in Excel (back when my future was going to be brighter).

Back when I learned that there’s Hobbiton in New Zealand.

Nothing’s written in stone.  Nothing’s officially planned.

But I’m closer.

I did all my homework for my passport.  I had my photocopies and all that.  I did have to go off-site for my photo, but that was a minor (and I do mean so very minor) inconvenience.  The agent looked over my stuff, had my sign my Internet-pre-filled Form DS11, and I paid and I was ready to go!

This is so exciting!

A journey of 2000 miles, began with a trip to the post office.

So Far

I've been home a week.  I did wind up packing up my car when I got back from Chicago.  I got home last Thursday around 10:30pm broke, tired, and just ready to be home.

But, CHICAGO.

So, I didn't realize how long it would take me to get to the offsite parking spot, and how long it would take to get a ride to the airport.  I did make it there, and then got a Lyft to the airport.  I got through security okay...

And missed my flight.  Luckily, I was able to get on the next one no problem.  It was my first time flying.  It was a bit like a roller coaster, except when you leave the ground, holy shit you're not attached to anything.

I get to O'Hare, and had to get an Uber to the Motel 6 (yes, I used both in the same day!) because I couldn't figure out where the shuttle was, and then I had problems with finding the Uber driver.  By the time I got to my room, I decided I wasn't leaving it again.  I chilled in the room grateful I'd brought snacks.

The next day, I got up early and used the shuttle to get back to the airport to take the El into the city.  My first stop was The Field Museum.  When you walk in, Sue the T-Rex is the first thing you see.  I was so happy, because that's the only real reason Chicago is even on the list of places I want to visit.  Because, Dresden Files.  Anyway, I spent 4, nearly 5 hours in this museum.  I loved it!  I want to go back.

I got out well after lunch time and decided to try the bus lines.  Eventually, I made it to the Irish pub I wanted to visit.  I hadn't eaten all day, I was starving and damn that shepherd's pie was delicious.  And then I went back to my motel room.  It wasn't much, but I spent a day in Chicago.  Not much of one, and I hated that I couldn't do more, but there's only so many hours in a day and all that.

The next morning, Thursday, I got up at 4, to be ready to take the shuttle for 5, to board the plane a little after 6, take off was a little after 7, and we arrived back in Dallas a little before 9:30.  I managed the shuttle back to the offsite parking, gassed up my car, and headed back to Corsicana.  Upon arriving, I ate something and just decided I really really really wanted to be home.  I packed up my car and headed out.

You know the rest.

But the museum!  Sue!  The other animals!  The fossils!  They have a dimetrodon!  And all these other fossils!  And diaromas!

Also, Jurassic World:  The Exhibition is there until January.  I don't know where it's going after that.  But it's amazing!  So lifelike!

Yes, I like exclamation points for this.  It was my first time in that sort of museum, first time out of the Bible Belt, first flight, first time in a Motel 6...

What I learned:

PARK AT THE DAMNED AIRPORT.

STAY WHERE THE ATTRACTIONS ARE.

While I know I've had the idea that I'm going to travel solo, because if I wait for anybody to do anything with me, I'll never get to do anything, I don't know if I want to make a habit out of solo travel.  I can and will if I have to, but I won't make it a point to go solo.

That was my thing.  My last fling before going home to resume my life of mediocrity.  I tried in Texas.  The one thing I needed was time, and that was the one thing I didn't have.  And I'm already not a patient person to begin with.

My life isn't that great.  I'm 25, living at home, feel ugly most of the time, with hard to manage hair, going to be an old maid with a slightly caustic (heh, just slightly) personality....

but DAMN IT I MADE IT TO CHICAGO TO SEE SUE!

The Beginning of the End....of my quarter life crisis

I bought a plane ticket to Chicago.  I have a motel booked.  I reserved a parking spot for off-site parking.

It will not work out in Texas.  The short version is, I miss my family.

The truth?

-I can't afford it with roommates.  *Also, roomies smoke pot and I don't want to go to jail in a drug bust.  Parse that how you will.

-I sure as hell can't afford it on my own.

-I miss my stuff.  My computer, my bed, etc.  I loaded up my car with whatever it could carry, and took off.  The rest of my stuff was supposed to follow me, but hurricanes.

-I miss going to Chick-fil-A on a regular basis.

But first, I am going to Chicago.  Today was my last day at the Ennis Tractor Supply, and I have two days to pack the rest of my stuff before I leave for Chicago.  When I return on Thursday, I may pack up my car and leave, or I may wait.  I'm coming back early enough to leave on Thursday though.  We shall see.

Female Seeking...

So, the cousin and I had a deal that if I didn't meet someone by my next birthday in real life, I'd sign up on a dating site.  My birthday is Thursday.

Internet dudes....oh no, serial killers!  Skin-stealers!

Never mind that most of the couples I know aren't anything to be envious of.

I'm pretty sure I've done this before, but I'll have to look.  But let's see, if I were really honest about what I wanted:

Victor Barinov from Bite Me by Shelly Laurenston.  I mean, seriously, every time I read that book, I swoon.  He's just so perfect!  Actually, he has an anti-perfection agenda, but still.

-Must be sweet.

-Accepts the fact I'm an asshole, but makes me wish I were less of one.

-Must like Elton John, and MASH, and all sorts of things.  You know, we need to have some stuff in common.

-OR, if we don't have much in common, must be useful, like a mechanic or carpenter.  If he can't talk books with me, he can at least build me bookshelves or be able to change the oil in my car and keep it running because I know shit about cars.

-Must kill the bugs without being a jerk about it.

-Monogamous, because I feel like nowadays I have to say that.

-Scottish maybe?  Complete with accent and kilt!  ;-)  Wishful thinking I know.  ::sigh::

My cousin's been asking what sort of person I want.  The truth is, I don't know.  Some people I take to right away, and others take forever for me to get used to.  It just depends.

Honestly, I still don't want to get my hopes up.

You ever see those forever alone memes?

I'm Still Here

I know, I know, it's like I disappeared.  I'm still here.  I want to go back to myself.

The girl who was supposed to be a fantasy author.

The girl who could read 120+ books/year.

The girl who dreamt of other places other than her hometown.

The girl obsessed with the Celtic mythos.

I'm going to be 25 this year, and I feel like I have nothing to show for it.

I barely made reading challenge this year.

I didn't make an Easter post--hard to when I've mostly walked away from my faith.  Although, I'm a little drunk right now, and I'll admit that tonight was the first time I've written in my prayer journal since January.

I want to write again.

I want to read again.

I want to leave Mississippi--even if I don't know where that'll be.

I want something, anything different.

My complacency, I think, has been slowly killing me.

I want to get back to myself.  I wasn't always this way.  And I don't want to be this way.

I have written a little bit, but there's more to add to that.

How do I put this...?

I started reading the Harry Potter books.  Yes, yes, I'm still at home.  Yes, yes, Mom doesn't know.  Please don't tell her.

I got them on my Kindle, so there's no actual evidence that I own them.

Anyway, I just finished book 5.  I have enjoyed them.  I like them.  I think they're great.

I hate everyone who has ever demonized them.

I should have been able to read these growing up, dammit!

I could've been one that grew up with the characters.  I should've been there to see the movies when they came out.

On the bright side, I can binge-read them (although I didn't thus far) and I don't have to wait for release dates!  I can also binge-watch all the movies, for the first time, if I ever can manage it.

I had to take a break after book 4.  I just had to.  I was too shaken.  And there are 28 books (I counted them on my Goodreads reading challenge) between 4 and 5.  I thought it was only about 5 or 6 books ago, maybe only a month ago that I read book 4.  No, no, it was back in April.  I whizzed through 5.  I probably won't have the series finished by the end of this month, but I'll probably be done before the end of August.

I'm trying not to think about my upcoming birthday.  Or the fact I've accomplished so little in 24 years.  I'm trying not to think about tying bricks around my ankles and jumping in the bayou.

A change of reading material, you see, was definitely in order.  Something that was positive in the shitstorm that I've made my life.  Yes, I know, it's my fault, my decisions, my stupidity.  Now I have to fix it, because damn sure nobody else will.  Easier said than done.

I haven't read much fantasy this year.  But I see myself falling in love with the genre all over again.  When you're life sucks, you don't like any better what's going on in Mordor, but it sure beats the hell out of staying where you are.

THAT is worth everything.  And if any of you religious types don't like it, you're probably not good company anyway.

I'm Not Nice

There is a certain cynicism that comes with growing up in church.  Or maybe that's just me, because I grew up in church and grew up in a legalistic home and now I'm picking up the shards of my broken faith and trying to piece together something akin to a spirituality.

Today was not the first time I've heard the Gospel (thank you, Brennan Manning).  I think it was the first time I heard it from a pulpit though.

....  

I will be 24 my next birthday.  I have grown up in church.  Why is this the first time?

I have accepted that the Church had made many mistakes.  That I have made plenty more.

I will hold myself accountable for my mistakes.  I will not go easy on the Church for theirs.

I think this boils down to:

I have a lot of resentment against the Church.  I need to forgive the Church, and my family, for wrongs, real or otherwise, done against me.  No one's perfect, and these people never claimed to be.

Fair enough.

Candid, Candide, and the Candidates

“Each player must accept the cards life deals him or her; but once they are in hand, he or she alone must decide how to play the cars in order to win the game.”
― Voltaire, Candide

Oh, this road has been long and hard.

“I have wanted to kill myself a hundred times, but somehow I am still in love with life. This ridiculous weakness is perhaps one of our more stupid melancholy propensities, for is there anything more stupid than to be eager to go on carrying a burden which one would gladly throw away, to loathe one’s very being and yet to hold it fast, to fondle the snake that devours us until it has eaten our hearts away?”

1) We started going to church again. I am not taking back anything I've said about the Church. I will not apologize for observations or feelings. I will not pretty up the damage growing up in church with legalistic influences has done. I've had to find my way back, and that's iffy at best.

He wanted to know how they prayed to God in El Dorado.

"We do not pray to him at all," said the reverend sage. "We have nothing to ask of him. He has given us all we want, and we give him thanks continually.”

If for some odd reason your pastor decides to preach from Candide, this is the part where he'd say, "We need to have an El Dorado attitude!"

2) I'm still unemployed (walked out of my job nearly 2 months ago). I had a dream I went back to work where I walked out, and the reasons I quit were still there. No lie. In the dream, nothing had changed. Perhaps it was better to stay there? Or to leave? Whatever, no going back!

“Work keeps at bay three great evils: boredom, vice, and need.”

3) Reading's still okay.

“For my part I read only to please myself and like only what suits my taste.”

4) Writing's been bad.

“A great work must be novel without being far-fetched, frequently sublime, but always natural. The author must know the human heart, and how to make it speak; he must be a poet, without letting any of his characters speak like poets; and he must be a master of his language, using it purely and harmoniously and not letting the rhyme interfere with the sense.”

5) Oh yeah, and on a larger level, American politics has reached an all new level of low: Pissing contest for the ages!

“In every province, the chief occupations, in order of importance, are lovemaking, malicious gossip, and talking nonsense.”

I'm sure I've mentioned it before: Candide is probably my favorite classic. Because I can give my blogpost a proper commentary with quotes from that slim treasure.


This is the world God created, therefore it is the best of all possible worlds. And everything happens for the best in this best of all possible worlds.

I would have that in quotation marks as well, but I can't seem to find it either on Goodreads or my own pretty copy of the book. At least, not in so many words.

In light of Point 1, looking at Point 5, and thinking back to things I've said:

1) God appoints.  Guess what, Christians? WE, THUS FAR, HAVE SURVIVED OBAMA.

2) If Jesus said He would be there until the end of the world, do you believe it or not? I don't recall Him saying it was easy. He just said He'd be there.

3) Jesus also said somewhere not to worry about tomorrow.

I find this sound advice when it comes to American politics.

(I also think if I read my Bible as much as I looked up Candide quotes, maybe I'd be better off. Or maybe not, because this is the first time in a long time I played on Goodreads quotes.)

At the end of the day, I have no control over what happens. If I don't have control over it, I don't want to worry about it. At the end of the day, it gets filed under "Not My Problem."

I try to file as many things as possible under "Not My Problem."

I did not ask to be born. I did not ask for most of what's going on in this world. Don't believe what our generation is like? Go on Tumblr.

I do have to live in this world. Come hell or high water, I do have to live here until a new one is created. I will live here. I will have a good attitude about it.

Fine! I will try to have a good attitude about it.

“All that is very well," answered Candide, "but let us cultivate our garden.”

It Got Easier

The Internet is exploding with two things:  Joy, and Outrage.

Personally, I don't feel one way or the other about gay marriages being legalized across the US.  

1)  Obviously, I'm not gay.  And if y'all didn't know that...well, now you know.

2) What other people do is none of my damn business.

Well, I am glad it's over now, let's put it this way.  Can we focus on the next problem on the list now?

I've been meaning to write this post for a while, and the day's events kind of paved the way for it.

The beautiful thing about giving up Christianity is that I don't feel the need to judge people.  I don't have to care about their religion, their sexuality, their home life, their job, or whatever.

It doesn't matter.  It doesn't make them less of a person if they're not like me.  It doesn't mean they aren't worthy of love or that they don't deserve to be happy.  They're people.  Living, breathing people with feelings and thoughts and dreams and wishes.

The funny thing about that is, even Christians shouldn't care.  If a gay comes up to you and needs food, would you let him go hungry because he doesn't fit a certain mold?

Honestly, I thought the Church had bigger problems.  Aren't there hungry people in the world?  Hurting people who need healing?  Global warming (if it's real, man)?  I used to be super against environmentalism, but I'm not anymore.  This is the world we live in.  Perhaps we should take care of it, at least a little.

But it's so difficult to love.  And so easy to judge.

Riping about homosexuality should never take the place of loving someone who obviously needs it.  Someone's sin is between them and God.  Not between them and you.  I promise, they're not hurting you, they don't want to hurt you.  Do not hurt them.

And again, it's none of your damn business.  Christianity doesn't allow gays.   Okay, Christians aren't allowed to be gay anymore than Muslims are allowed to drink.  Fine.  But not everyone follows that, and you can't expect someone to live up to expectations that aren't theirs.

If I don't see the End of Days (it's a crapshoot), and it happens after I've grown old and died (if it's really going to happen), I don't want to be remembered as someone who was so religious, who stayed in my ivory tower, and you couldn't come to me.  I want to be remembered as someone who, yes, I'm an asshole, but people never doubted that I loved them.  I actually gave a damn.  I didn't judge, and I didn't ripe about someone's choices.

I don't believe in getting stressed over things I have no control over.

I don't have to like the world I live in.  It sucks.  But I do have to live in it until a better one comes along.

My Little Grief

I'm moving in with Lacey after I finish this trimester. I've turned in a quasi-notice at work, not written, but verbal, and got some cigarette boxes, and will be getting more, to move my books in.

I left my internship site a little early Friday, because nothing was really happening. I derped around for a few hours, and then I picked up and left for her town.

It was a nice visit, and we got the apartment semi-ready for my moving in. I wasn't terribly impressed with Columbus, but I really have my eye on Tupelo anyway. Columbus, living with my BFF, is just a temporary thing. I love her, she's my sister from another mister, but she's used to having her own place-and-space, and I want my own place-and-space.

All the same, she's looking forward to me living with her, and so am I.

But...

I got back home at 6 last evening. As I was laying in bed, it occurred to me that soon this wouldn't be my home anymore. I've lived in this house 16 years, most of my short life, and soon it wouldn't be my home anymore and I would be all the way up in Columbus, MS, and this wouldn't be my home anymore...

I didn't cry. I don't cry. But damn if I didn't feel like it.

It's the next stage in my life, moving out of my parents' house, getting a full time job that's NOT retail, and making my own home, and hopefully looking for a boyfriend...

New beginnings mean there's an ending to get through. I'm a sucker for a happy ending, and if I've learned nothing else from book series, it's that endings hurt a little. You're happy for the happily ever afters, but it took a lot of pain to get there. Also, the endings are always a little sad. There's a new normal to adjust to.

It's not too late to back out, but I said I'd go, and I'm going. I'm cutting the apron strings.

And hope I don't scream for my momma when all my shit's up there and the moving truck leaves.

Pretty Words 2: The Reverse Testimony

I would like to apologize in advance for what will be the Easter post this year.

I grew up in church.  I can't tell you the first time I prayed a sinner's prayer.  My parents were not and are not exactly legalistic, but strict.  I wasn't allowed to read Harry Potter.  We didn't celebrate Halloween in any shape or form.  No parades.  My earliest years of church, I was not allowed to wear pants.  I always had to wear a dress or skirt.

I grew up attending church off and on.  Sometimes we never missed.  Sometimes we didn't attend for weeks.

I liked to read fantasy--still do, but when I first started reading, it was always fantasy books, dragon books, books with magic and daring.

In the Christian vernacular, dragons and magic = Satan, therefore not good, and this caused many arguments between me and my mom.

Although, I will say as an aside, Skin Game sent me back to my Bible when many of Christian books did not.  Just sayin'.

I grew up.  Sort of.  I still feel 17 sometimes.  And then I remember I'm graduating with a bachelor's in May and moving out shortly after, and then I feel like the slow-developing young lady I am.  Because I do everything late.  Better late than never, though.

I liked to write about the Ragamuffins, about Rich Mullins, and Brennan Manning, and all that stuff.  Y'all know.  Many of those posts are here.

And then I began reading The Signature of Jesus by none other than Brennan Manning.  I didn't get very far, because it made me cry because what little I had read, was nothing I had ever experienced.  I'd heard of such things, but it had never been a personal experience.

Nothing had ever been personal.  I never felt led.  I never felt the all encompassing love of God.  At least, I couldn't recall a time.

It was a lot of "This was simply not my experience."

That was when it started.  It made me question a lot of things I'd heard.

It simply wasn't my experience.  It was just a lot of pretty words.  Pretty words, pretty words, pretty words.

I tended to stay away from "Christian-y" things after that.  I wasn't a Christian.  I wasn't good enough or wasn't far enough, or just simply wasn't enough.  Those were not my religion or spirituality.  Eventually, I wrote "Pretty Words."  I had a good day and I wrote "Holy Rollin'."

I can't believe that last one was four months ago.

It's difficult to sit in church and listen, when you're not sure you believe that God loves you.  On an intellectual level, I guess He does.  On an emotional level, on a spiritual level, I don't know if I believe it.  I probably don't.  This God hasn't bothered with me for a long time.

I was raised on Revelation sermons.  "If those bother you, it means you're not ready."

Dang right I'm not ready.  I wanted to grow up and get married and have kids and all that.  That kind of stuff doesn't happen in heaven, paradise it may be.  I wanted--still want--romantic love.  It almost felt as if we were taught we wouldn't see adulthood, or not much of it.

And here I am pushing 23, still afraid to have kids because I don't want to be one of those people, pity nursing mothers and those with young children...

That is no way to live.

Do I believe I'll see Revelation?

The more important question is, do I still even believe in Revelation?

Because let's face it, the things foretold is basically the history of the world events.  The world has always been imperfect since the Fall.

Because let's face it, the Bible isn't special in its teaching.  Most religions say some form of love your neighbor.  Most religions teach a flood.  Most religions say do good deeds.  I don't even think Christianity is special via, not your works but Jesus' work.  You are not saved based on your merits.  You are saved because of a savior, or for trying, or some such.  It's the heart.  Yes, actions help, faith without works is dead, but you're not saved based on your deeds.  You're saved because your heart belongs to Insert Savior Here.

And here I am, wanting to pray to a God I feel is very distant, and what am I supposed to believe?

Someone might say the Bible contradicts itself.  It might say one thing here, and another here.

And the Christian dutifully answers, Well, the Bible was written to different people, in different times.

So, if you admit different people wrote the Bible, and imperfect people wrote that Bible, how is it infallible?  And if it is all supposed to be Holy Spirit inspired, why were books taken out in the late 1800s?  Barely 200 years ago?  Who decided that?  How can you tell is something was Holy Spirit inspired?

One of the few things I am absolutely certain in regards to the Bible is that God is bigger than the Bible.

So, I have to sit in church feeling dead and hollow inside, because I don't think God cares about me, and He's not doing anything here, and I'm just sitting here because I'm forced...

So, I have to listen to others talk about what God is doing in their lives and maybe it would be nice to have that, but I can't say anything because then I would just get preached at, and that secondhand faith, secondhand religion is what I'm trying to get away from.

Your miracles strengthen your faith.  They don't do much for me.  Maybe I'm a bit of an empiricist and want to see things for myself.  Maybe I need to feel the wounds in His hands for myself.

Or maybe I should just thank God that the miracles required in my life were far and few between.

And then, I haven't touched my Bible lately, unless it was for church, or if I just was moving it from one place to another.

In one of my last written prayers, "I don't think I love You.  Well, I won't lie to You or to myself.  I don't. ....I don't have faith.  I have fear."  Whatever it is, it's not love.

I was raised to fear God, not adore Him for His mercy or grace.  Be saved or be thrown into hell.

That is no way to live.  Perfect love never cast out my fear.

This is nothing new.  I've expressed such concerns before over the years.  This isn't my first bout of what I term spiritual depression.  But it was never this bad.

I've been suffering in silence.  No more.

So there you have it.  How I went from growing up in church off and on, to rebelling because I like dragons, to questioning because I've noticed the similarities in Christianity and other religions are more striking than the differences, questioning the faith, questioning the Church, questioning the Bible. I do still believe in God, I just don't know if I believe in the Bible, or the God of the Bible.  A Creator, Great I Don't Know, yes.  Loving Jehovah, I don't know.

It hasn't been my experience.  And it breaks my heart to verbalize this.  But I can't keep doing this.  Eventually, this will all out.

It could end in tragedy or triumph.  Stay posted.

In Which Jadi Rants about Mississippi

My county has no bookstore.  Sometimes, I am utterly convinced half the county is illiterate.  I went to high school with people who could barely read.

It’s annoying to be in in tenth grade, listening to a classmate read, who doesn’t recognize words I would think should be relatively easy.

It’s downright depressing to be sitting in an upper level college literature class with the same problem.  Granted, not everyone in a college lit class is a guaranteed English major, but still…

So, I have to go 20-30 miles either north or south to get to the nearest bookstore.  We have some secondhand places, though. Only one of which has a good selection of books.  The WalMart book aisle is a joke.  Sometimes I find some gems at the Dollar General.  Rarely, but it has been known to happen.

Mississippi is the worst in everything.  Poorest, fattest, poorest healthcare, poorest, worst education, highest teen pregnancy and I think even the highest STD rate.  Worst education.  (yes, I am well aware I listed some twice)

They had common core.  Say what you will about it, but given that Mississippi cuts the education funding every time they have to cut somewhere, and common core would’ve meant more money for that, and Mississippi’s at the bottom of the totem pole in education…

Stupidity breeds stupidity.  And Mississippi is the worst in everything, or has the highest percentages of the bad things.

But this isn’t about how crappy my state is.  Well, I’m not technically from here.  I was born, and my family originates, in Louisiana.  And yes, it kind of is.  I'm aggravated tonight, and writing is kind of the only thing I feel like doing.

I was picked on for being smart.  For reading in middle and high school.

I would finish my work and want to pull out my book and read.  I had a teacher tell me he was sick of me not working ahead and made me write definitions on two separate occasions.  Same teacher took my book away once.  Bastard.  So I had a notebook and wrote after I was done.  If he didn’t see a book, just saw me writing, he left me alone.  I might have even kept my textbook out.

My best friend had similar experiences.  Not with that teacher, but with a substitute teacher.

No, no, reading isn’t important.  Like hell.

My little brother’s teacher encourages them to read and keep a journal.  I’m glad.  Maybe they’ll be kids who think.  Maybe they’ll get out of the county, or make the county a better place.

People need to read, even if it’s just a book or two a year.  Even if it takes the whole year to get through the damn book.  I can’t judge anyone who reads a book that slowly.  It took me all of last year to through The Hobbit.

More importantly, if someone wants to read, how dare any teacher discipline her for that?  I was done with my work.  I was already ahead of everyone, and he expected me to move even farther ahead?  Hell no.

I wasn’t talking.  I wasn’t disturbing the other students.  I was reading.

I’m really against dumb laws, but there should be something protecting smart students from the likes of teachers like that.

I should have told my mom.

Well, I should have told my mom when it happened.

My mom is scary, okay?  She would’ve never tolerated that if she’d known.  And she would’ve raised hell for it.

I have a good mom.

Getting back on topic, however, things need to change.  It’s like Ray Bradbury said, “You don’t need to burn books to destroy a culture.  You just have to get people to stop reading them.”

And sometimes I feel like there is absolutely no culture here.

It's That Time of Year Again

I came into work today to find some of the Easter stuff out.  Christmas is over, Valentine's came and went, and now the next commercialized holiday on the docket is my personal favorite.  Yippee.

I have a lot of mixed feelings about this.  I've been having a lot of mixed feelings about God in general lately.  This has been going on for a while now.  Perhaps even for years.

This time, except for what I've said here, I haven't shared my thoughts or feelings on the matter.  I really don't like being preached to.  "Just a season.  You need to pray more."  I've heard it all.

I like studying every mythology but my own.  The thing about this, however, is that often I see connections and similarities between "theirs" and "ours."

"Something.  Happened."*  Over time, the stories changed and spread.  So now you have a bunch of world mythologies with similar stories.

What makes Christianity so special?  Because it says it is?

Because I can't just accept that.  It's Insurance Policy religion.  Christianity (and a lot of its denominations within) is one of the few to say it's the only way.  A lot of other religions don't care how you get there.

The Bible says don't know too much about the wickedness in the world.  Does that include other religions?  Is that so we don't see the similarities and begin this doubting I'm going through now?

I don't like that notion.  One of the historical eras we learned about, I don't remember which one, had a mindset that if God gave us a brain, the ability to reason, we should use it.

But then, wasn't that what got Eve?  The fruit was knowledge of good and evil.  Yeah, yeah, it was disobedience, but the fruit itself gives me pause.  He didn't want them to have knowledge.

Am I wrong to have questions?  Am I wrong to like learning, to like knowledge?  I think I'd rather a religion--better yet, a spirituality--that doesn't create a bunch of ignorant followers.

And we all know how Christians are at the bottom of the totem pole for intelligence.  Not all of them.  Plenty of great minds have been Christians or at least deists.  In the yesteryears.

You understand my confusion, don't you?  I don't know if there's anyone I can go to about it, because I'm always dismissed out of hand.  

I don't have a problem believing in God.  Perhaps I have a tough time believing in what the Bible says about God.

The Bible, inspired by God or not, was still written by people.  Fallible people.  But this book written by fallible people is still supposed to be infallible.

I've also read somewhere that God is bigger than the Bible.  Thank God.

I would like to think God's okay with someone who has questions, looks for answers, turns the idea over in her mind, and comes back to the mindset she had previously. Or comes to the answer she's looking for, whatever that might be.

But I've been wrong before.

I'm still looking forward to Easter.  I mean to get my chocolate bunnies and make my brother and godchildren their Easter baskets.  I'll probably have an Easter post, hopefully.  As I said last year, the show must go on.  It might not be the greatest, but it'll be honest.


*Why yes, I did take that from Stephen King's Revival.

The Valentine's Day Post: Cynical Rants and Romantic Dreams

I'm single on Valentine's Day.

I know, it's such a big shocker.

As someone who's been single, been ignored by the male of the species for most of my life, and really waved off by a lot of people, called weird, whatever, I'm kinda just like:

"Screw you!"

I haven't spent so much time alone to just want to spend time with just anyone.  Forget wanting a boyfriend, I don't even think I want any more friends if they're not readers or writers or someone I can talk about BBC shows with.

But, since this is Valentine's Day:

If I ask if he likes Stephen Lawhead, and he doesn't respond by quoting Taliesin, The Skin Map, or some other romantic passage from one of his books, I don't want to date him.

If he won't geek out over the Dresden Files (or any Jim Butcher book for that matter) with me, I don't want to date him.

If he won't cuddle on the couch and watch something with me--be it Doctor Who, Lord of the Rings, The Hobbit movies, or reruns of some show on Netflix--I don't want to date him.

If he doesn't show up at my door wearing a kilt just to make my day (because I am shamelessly obsessed with guys in kilts), I don't want to date him.

If he's going to call me weird, tell me I need help, call me crazy, or anything that I've had to hear before, I don't want to date him.  

(Note:  Those would be grounds for breaking up.  Those are grounds for freaking murder.  Call me crazy, you gon see crazy!)

I'm tired of hearing those things.  I hate being called weird.  I hate being told I'm not playing with a full deck.  I hate being called crazy.  I know people don't mean it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt.  Quit talking to me like there's something wrong with me.

So, yeah, I can be lonely single, or I can be lonely with the wrong person.  If I'm lonely by myself, at least I can do whatever I want.

Yeah, yeah, I want a boyfriend and husband and all that.  But I also want to get out of Mississippi one day as well.  I mean, I really really really want out.  And so there's nothing holding me back, the less entanglements, the better.

That's another thing.  Given the amount of teen pregnancy in MS, I'm glad I never dated in high school.  I don't have to be a young single mother.  I'm just a young single.  I'm graduating in May with a bachelor's.  I'm getting an education.  I can get out of this little podunk town.

I mean, Stone County wasn't a bad place to grow up, but now that I am a 20-something,  and there is no liquor store because it's a dry county, no Sally's (and I have curly hair, so this is really inconvenient), no bookstore (and I'm convinced the whole freaking town is illiterate), barely any jobs (I know I have one, but I want a better one after graduation), I REALLY DON'T WANT TO STAY HERE!

And I don't have to.  I shouldn't have to.

And of course, this is my theme song.  Don't judge me.

I Lived

In my opinion, a song’s value is based on how relatable it is.  Kinda.  I mean, I like a lot of love songs, but I have nobody to think about.  I listen to a lot of country, about people who do a lot of things I don’t do, but I still listen to it, and say it’s realistic and stuff.

I like Rich Mullins’ music because very often I’ve felt similar things in my stumbling faith.  I like prodigal songs, and I think that’s telling.  I like songs that talk about doubts and yearning and begging for forgiveness.  But that’s a post for another day.

Ed Sheeran is one of those singers that’s hit and miss.  On one hand, he’s really good.  On the other, when he sings about his actual career, the relatability gets lost in it.  Yes, we’ve all felt like that, but we don’t all go on tour.

I got into OneRepublic because I liked the song that played in The Sorceror’s Apprentice.  I got into Ed Sheeran the same way.  I liked the song that played at the end of The Desolation of Smaug and had to look the singer up.

One Republic’s Native album was on sale one day, and some of their other stuff, and I figured, well, I like “Counting Stars” and I like OneRepublic, so why not?

“I Lived” is playing on the radio.  Not on my radio.  I have the album, I don’t need a radio, but it’s a single and it plays on the radio.  No, I haven’t seen any of their videos.

It makes me wanna do things.  There’s a lot of things I’ve never done.  It makes me wish I had a more adventurous spirit and that I took more chances.  I’ve never been in love.  I’ve never visited outside the country.  I’ve never been out of the South, actually.  I’ve never been bungee jumping or gone on a mission trip.  I’ve never broken anything.  When I look at my life thus far, I haven’t done much.  Read a lot of books, wrote a few of my own.  I’ve gone to concerts and road trips.  I’m hoping to graduate with my bachelor’s in May.

I’m young, I think.  I haven’t had much oppurtunity.  I won’t always be so busy.  Or so I hope.  I also hope I don’t put it off so long that my life passes me by and soon it’s too late.

At the end of my life, I wanna say

I, I, I

I did it all

I, I, I

I did it all

I owned every second that this world could give

I saw so many places, the things that I did

Yeah with every broken bone

I swear I lived