I like to call it "agnostic" because "atheist" sounds so mean.

Being raised Catholic didn't agree with me. Actually, I kind of resent the church for screwing me up so badly. The whole idea of praising one person (Jesus) for all of my blessing weirds me out. Especially if you think about it. Jesus is technically a zombie.

I had my first holy communion at the age of nine where I got to eat Jesus and drink his blood for the first time. When I was 18, I agreed to let my parents enroll me in a confimation class with about 100 or so other young Catholics where we all did team building exercises and promised to commit our lives to god.

The main reason why I agreed to start training in the Cathlathons (not a real thing) was because I was curious and wanted to know what being a cannibal entails. Turns out Jesus is just a stale wafer and his blood was just red wine. I also attended mass weekly because it made my mom and dad think that I was finding some guidance from the catholic church. What they don't know is that I really just do it to make them happy.

It wasn't until recently that my parents started forcing me to go to church-- because if I didn't, they'd start (verbally) fighting with me. If you ask me, it all seems very anti-christian to me. Forcing their beliefs on me is pointless and ineffective. So, I end up sitting there for an hour thinking about other things I could be doing and hating catholicism because I've wasted a perfectly nice Sunday that I will never get back.

My philosophy was always "treat others the way you wanted to be treated". Plain and simple. I'm a lover not a fighter. So last night when I went to church with my mom, I silently cursed Christianity's traditions and sat through yet another service. I was even more offended when my mother dearest said she would "pray for me". It will always bug me whenever someone says to it me-- particularly when a stranger says it to me. You don't even know me!

My mom walked up to those funning little thingys (I don't know what they're called) where you can kneel on a slippery cushion and pray to a statue of the Virgin Mary. I sat there and watch her light a candle and then she proceeded to bow her head and close her eyes. I've never seen her look so calm before. The woman who would always hysterically nag me about my lifestyle and call me nine times a day to remind me that I needed to watch what I ate and hurry up and finish college already was actually relaxed. She does love me afterall. That's why she's praying for me, I guess. I'm not sure how this is supposed to help me but I'm not going to let my lack of faith ruin things for my mother. My mom and dad chose to follow the path of Catholicism and even though it's not the right one for me, at least it's something that helps my parents and their purpose-driven life. Regardless of religion, prayer does help. It's a outlet for my mom and it enables her to relieve her burdens onto something else that is beyond her control.

I'm not sure how much longer I can closet my religion... or lack thereof. But seeing someone else's day brighten up because they get to spend a Sunday with their daugther is worth it. Yeah that means you mom and dad... (sighhhh) churchies.

Head over flats... because I don't wear heels

I'm going to try a little bit of post-modern literature for this one because I don't really want to reveal too much. Instead, I'm going to let the words create a visual feeling-- What? You mean you don't understand what I'm trying to say? Take it away inner Gertrude Stein!

A rainbow. A bed. Puffy and white and soft with feathers. As fresh as the air after it rains, it's green, it's springtime and it's sunny. Warmth on my heart. It spreads all over my body. Roast beef. It was summer, Rachel was there. A lonely gray couch. The end.

Who am I kidding? This is stupid and I hate Gertrude Stein.

But you get the idea right? I'm dating someone. It's new. It's different. I feel warm and fuzzy all the time... etc.

This will be something that I will elaborate on much later seeing as to how I'm still in the honeymoon phase. Love is blind. It's giving me a cataract and it's clouding my judgement. Clouding hah! Get it?

Back in the Dawg House

It is (somewhat) offcial! I've re-registered at the University of Washington. After a two year sabbatical, I will once again be a textbook-toting young scholar. And it wasn't until my thinking about it, that I realized I really do miss the collegiate experience. That doesn't mean I won't be complaining about wet shoes and cold weather-- those things, I can do without. But let's face it, I'm in a rut. I was able to make excuses and keep myself busy by being a chiropractic assistant and then I even found myself exploring careers by being a nursing assistant.

What did I learn about myself after doing that? Nothing really besides taking x-rays... and knowing that I never want to be anyone's assistant ever again. And after being funemployed for a while, I decided that I was a bum and had no more savings left to spend and being a housewife was soooo passe. That's right. A rut.

This is totally unrelated but I can't really call "boyfriend" PC Gamer anymore since we went out and he dropped $500 on an Xbox 360 in the middle of the night (thank you, Walmart). So he's going to be referred to as Boyfriend from now on until I can think of some other anonymous thing to call him.

So yesterday, Boyfriend pulls me out of bed and says, "we're going to fill out that application form and get you into school again." I felt reluctant at first because there will be no more free time, no more sleeping in, no more steady income. I was going back to being a poor college student. But then a rainbow appeared and I started daydreaming about the day where I won't have to stick the word "assistant" at the end of any of my job titles.

I still have no idea what I want to major in. I should really hurry up and figure that out because I've accrued about 105 General Studies credits and college isn't cheap. I hope to god that being a videogame producer doesn't require a vast knowledge of calculus because frankly, I just don't understand it.

Something's missing

There is something missing from my life and I don't know how to fix it. I'm not sure if it's phase two of my quarter life crisis (I wasn't even aware that there were phases) or if I'm just "sucking too hard on my lollipop" as Mika would put it. Either way, it seems like everyone, myself included, has become too caught up with their own problems to remember what it's like to be a supportive friend.

There are very few things I hate besides vegetables. One of them is asking for things. I don't like asking for what I need because that makes me seem too... needy. What a predicament! So how do I go about asking a friend that I just need a shoulder to cry on, a hand to hold and uhhh-- an ear for listening?

Asking for something is a challenge for me because there's always the chance that I get turned down which opens up a can of worms leading down the direction of "fear of rejection." And as I sit here thinking about all of the other things that I am afraid of (like commitment), I wonder how any of my friends are so willing to put up with my crazies.

Many people say that's what friendship is all about. "It's a two way street" and we all have to help each other through our crazy moments but lately, it seems like everyone is driving the other direction. After I've given everyone all I can offer, how do I cope when I get nothing in return?

Footprints

It really weirds me out when my tracker shows me people who come to my blog and how the find me. Most of the time it's someone who Googles my name. What's scarier is when it shows that someone Googles my real name and my school. Must be someone who really knows me I guess.

I'm going to take this as a sign for me to go backwards and make the juicy entries private. Like that one entry about porn and oral. Oh jeez (O jizz-- hahaha *laughs at own pun*).

Can't really make the entire blog private since Sammi still stops by. Though, I've noticed that a lot of bloggers are dropping off the radar. I'm getting there too actually. I won't let that happen though. It has only been a year and a half since I "seriously" (my word for "half-assing it") started blogging.

What's the weirdest thing that has brought someone to your stuff?