Ahhhh. It’s friday. Only it’s early friday morning and I cannot sleep. Tommorow I have one class I have to go to and one class only. Then I have a couple hours to kill before I go home for the weekend. Fun times ahead.
This kid I know is playing Riff Raff in a production of Rocky Horror and me and some friends are going to see it Saturday Night. I have not been home since I got here this year. Should be interesting. In fact, it was a few days ago that was around the time I left in August. Wow.
As excited as I am to go home, I find I don’t always enjoy it a lot. Home is a place where my freedom is a lot more limited and my time is a lot more structured. Not that having a scheadule is a bad thing, and not that one is even enforced. It’s hard to stay up later though when everyone is in bed around 10 or 11 though. And it’s hard to sleep in when people are waking up at 6 or 7.
My parents are nice people. They raised me well, let me have freedom, and didn’t give me a lot of grief about anything. Knowing all this I hate to criticize them, but the thing I dread, nay LOATHE, about going home is that time on Saturday when my mom asks if I’d like to go to church with them on sunday morning. My mom is very good about making people feel guilty by saying nothing. Everytime I say something like “well, we’re leaving early” or “I’d kind of like to sleep in” I can see how much it hurts her. At the same time, I fear her church. They have 6 services on sundays and over 1000 people at each service. The whole service looks like something that a televangelist would throw together. I hate the place.
Along time ago it seems something about my relationship with religion lost any sort of meaning. It seems like a long time ago, but in reality it was only a couple years ago. I was always taught that people feel a connection with God or something. I dunno. I’ve never felt like that. I’ve never felt like there was really anything to look forward to after death. The more and more that I hear stories out of the Bible or whatever other relgious text is shown my way, the less and less I can believe what I’m reading. I know some people feel very strongly about relgion and spirituality and what not. I believe in spirituality. I believe in feeling a connection with people. I believe that certain things can bring you peace. I know when I sit down and draw, or write, or play my guitar I feel at peace with myself. I don’t feel that sort of thing in a church. I feel scared. I feel out of place. I feel like I don’t belong there. And I’m rambling because I don’t what else to do right now and I might as well get this out of my system before I go home tommorow.
At the sametime, I hate telling people I’m an aethiest. Functionally, I guess I am. I really hate the stigma that comes with it though. People think you’re angry about everything when you say “I’m an aethiest.” Basically, I don’t believe in God as presented to me. I don’t feel a connection to a higher power of any sort. I don’t desire too. If that’s my mistake, so be it. But I don’t think it’s a mistake.
Man, am I ever rambling. I think I’m gonna kill this now before I babble too much more. But I think my trip home will be fine. Atleast I hope so. I’ll update sunday and give a whole overview of the trip and all.
Oh yeah. If your read all of that, you should take the time to sign my guestbook. Please?
