Religion

I was asked a question, recently, that I had a hard time answering: Are you religious? ... ... Uhh ... ...

If they had asked me if I believe in God, I would have said no. That's an easy question to answer, but am I religious? I honestly don't know how to answer that.

I was raised by Christian parents. I practiced Wicca in high school. I've been to church a hand full of times. I've read the Bible (Old and New Testament), the Koran, the Torah, and other religious texts. I've gotten a mild grip on most of the world's religions. I don't believe that there is a One God, to rule us all. I don't believe that one "being" could handle that much power, without becoming corrupt.

My parents never pushed religion down my throat. They had their own beliefs, they taught me about Jesus and why they were faithful, but they never said, "This is the only way you'll go to Heaven". They never told me that I had to go to church, but when I asked to go, they allowed it. I was able to find my own path, and I'm eternally grateful for that. In fact, although they called themselves Christian, they pretty much loathed Christians, as a whole. I remember my dad breaking the preacher's nose because he told me I was going to hell. I was 9-years-old, and terrified when I came home from Bible study. Dad was pissed. The church didn't allow me back in the door after that.

That was probably the first time I started to question the "truth" of the bible. Why, if Christianity is all about forgiveness, was I banned from going back? My dad said, simply, "That's just how some folks are." So, while my friends were going to Sunday School, I was learning about cars with my dad. We called it Bible study, though, just for a giggle. I miss my dad.

My parents were very religiously accepting. Most people know about Missionaries and slam the door in their faces, when they come knocking. My mom invited them inside, gave them a glass of sweet tea, or hot cocoa, and listened. She didn't kick them out, or make them feel worthless, she accepted them as if they were family. Then, she politely told them that, while their beliefs work for them, she didn't agree with them. She had been so nice to them, that very few every pushed. The just left, peacefully and smiling.

I guess that's kind of where I sit, in the religion debate. I don't think anybody is right or wrong. Everybody has something that works for them. If a book keeps a man from killing his wife, then so-be-it. If prayer makes a woman feel safe after being raped, then there truly is Power in Prayer. Do I believe that there is a man in the Cosmos, who makes everything better, who helps the needy and faithful, and damns those who don't believe in him? No. The God I learned about, when I was a child, isn't that petty, nor are the gods I've learned about since then.

I accept religion, as a whole. When I want something to happen, I'll conjure a Pagan "spell", say a chant, or pray. Some people have told me that I'm going to hell; I just smile and say, "I'll save you a seat". I don't like people who shove their beliefs onto other people. I don't appreciate churches who teach children to fear their deity, or they'll be burned for eternity. It seems that most churches focus on Fear instead of Respect. They're going about that all wrong, in my opinion.

Religion fascinates me. Everybody, from the Roman Empire, to the Celtic Druids, to the Ancient Egyptians, has had a god, or group of gods and goddesses, to pray to. The deities may have changed, the prayers might be different, but human nature hasn't. It's almost as if we need to think that someone, or some thing, has our back. When we've hit rock bottom, it's more comforting to think "God still loves me" rather than "I'm completely alone". I can accept that.

I'm not an Atheist. I don't get a kick out of discrediting the Bible, or any other texts. I accept that they believe. I accept that their beliefs help them in ways that I can't understand. I don't pout and throw a fit, like a toddler, when somebody says, "God loves you!" ... "Nuh-uh! He's not real!" ... That's just not me. Who am I to belittle someone's source of comfort and happiness? What gives me the right to tell anyone that they're wrong and I'm right? Most Atheists are hypocrites, just as most Christians, Catholics, Baptists, etc., are when they teach about forgiveness, yet don't forgive a little girl's father after he knocks their leader out.

What can I say? I believe that religion has it's place. I don't think that God is as "My way, or eternal damnation for you!" as most make him out to be. Honestly...if he's the all-knowing, all-doing, been-alive-forever,  controls-all-the-things guy, don't you think he's moved beyond the petty bullshit, by now? ...

Am I religious? ...Meh, I guess so...

Whore to a Housewife

Baring my soul, here... I have friends that I could talk to about this, I'm sure, but they all have their own problems, so mine just seem trivial. Don't want to be a burden, so...I'm getting it all out of my system, here, before it eats me alive.

I talk a big game when it comes to dating. I'm always saying that I won't sleep with a guy on the first date, and that I want respect, blah blah blah. When it comes right down to it, though, that's a bold-face lie. I don't respect myself and I don't demand respect from men. This week, I've slept with 3 men. In my life, just shy of 30. And you just thought, "Wow, what a slut." Yeah, pretty much how I feel, too. Sex is attention. Unfortunately, it's been so long since I've gotten the "right" kind of attention from men that I'll take what I can get. I don't feel powerful or womanly...I feel dirty and disgusting. I feel like a whore.

I don't know why I felt the need to post this for the world to read...

These guys are great guys, but they'll never want to be with me. Especially now that I've slept with them. Weird how that works... Guys want women to fuck them, but when it comes to bringing someone home to Mommy, they want a virgin...or at least someone who will make them work for sex. That's not me. That's the person I want to be, but I'm just so afraid of being alone that I go along with whatever they want, so they won't leave me. Guess what? They leave me, anyway.

Bah. I guess I'm just feeling sorry for myself. I want to be wanted. I'm so unbelievably lonely and sad. It doesn't help that I'm so painfully shy and unsure of myself that when I do go on dates, I usually blow it. I'm socially awkward... Just like I was in high school. There was a time in my life, recently even, that I felt like I could do anything, talk to anyone, be myself around guys and they'd like me. (This was a time when I *wasn't single*.) That time flew right past me. I'm back to being the weird girl. I say the wrong things. I turn guys off, but not enough that they won't have an orgasm inside me; just enough that they won't call me the next day.

No, I'm not feeling sorry for myself. I'm just sad. I'm lonely. I feel...incomplete. Fuck if that isn't exactly how I was raised NOT to feel. "Never let a man complete you." Yeah, well, I guess I listened to that advice...I've got no man TO complete me, so I'm incomplete.

Last night, I went over to a man's house. I'm genuinely interested in him, but I doubt that he's going to want anything to do with me, now. We fucked. Yes, I had an orgasm. So did he. Afterwards, the only thing I could think of was how badly I wanted a shower. I wanted to cry. As it was, I did shed a couple tears, while he was out of the room. I stayed for a couple hours and half-ass watched a movie, then got out of there and let him sleep. He invited me to stay, but I couldn't do it. I needed to break down and guys don't like a crying woman. So, I cried on the drive home, and I cried when I got home, and I'm still crying.

I don't know when I changed, but I don't like this side of me. I don't like sleeping with guys to feel wanted and loved, only to end up feeling dirty and used. I don't like not being able to talk to my friends, or cry around them because nobody has seen me cry in years, and they don't know how to act, when I do. I want my best friend back. He'd let me cry. He wouldn't say a word; just hold me. I miss that, so much.

This is the real me. I'm vulnerable and weak. Hell, I can't even hold down a job. I fuck men to make them like me. I feel like I've been left behind. I'm not the tough girl that everyone thinks I am...that's a bullshit facade. That's what they wanted (or needed) to see, so that's what they see.

Yup. So that's that. I'm going to go scrub the whore off my skin and do some crying. Alone.

Embarrassing...?

Just because I feel like, I'm going to post something that will, without a doubt, make somebody squirm.

I'm a 26-year-old woman. I'm healthy. My reproductive system is healthy. Other than a few extra pounds, I have no health complaints. I smoke, and I know I shouldn't. I'm mentally stable, in that I'm not on any type of medication to "balance my mood."

I have a period. Regularly. Every 29 days, Aunt Flo, Mother Nature, the Red Tide, whatever you want to call it (I'm curious for responses, actually...) knocks on my door. For 4 days, the lining of my uterus leaves my body. It's not pretty, but it's *natural*.

I have cramps. I get salt cravings, then sugar cravings, then salt cravings, again. There's an ache, constant, dull and annoying in my lower back. Sometimes, I get diarrhea, sometimes I'm constipated; it varies month-to-month. I put on water-weight, and my jeans don't fit quite right, for those 96-100 hours. I'm a little moody, tho I try not to cry for no reason, or scream at anybody. Women who use their period as an excuse to be a bitch make me sick.

What I want to know is: why is that such a shocking thing? Why can't I talk about my period without somebody getting uncomfortable? Why should something natural, something that every healthy female from the age of 14 (or younger; 10, for me) to 50 (or more) has, or will have to, or has had to deal with, be a taboo subject? Why should I be embarrassed when I buy pads from the store? I'm not embarrassed to buy condoms, and guess where they go...?

Men aren't afraid to talk about their reproductive processes. (In great detail.) Why are we?

2 Days and Counting...

The nerves are settling in... In just over a two days, we are heading out on our road-trip to St Louis to meet the Boondock Saints and other very cool people. I am excited and nervous all at once! I can't wait to get there, but I'm worried that my agoraphobia is going to keep me in the hotel room once I see how many people are going to be there...MEEP! I've been pretty good, recently. Not one panic attack in the last 2 years (claps hands) but I have also avoided overly-crowded places, so...yeah... Getting a little scared.

Ai yai yai

Just a quick little rant:

Patrick, you are a jerk. You talk shit about everybody behind everybody's back. Don't you know by now that we are all in the same group of friends? Haven't you learned that everything you say will eventually be relayed back to the target of your shit-talking?

You're back in jail, now. Big surprise there. Whoever took over your phone seems to think that you hate me, that I'm a "fat, nasty cow" who "fucks everything in sight" and that you "can't stand" my "nasty ass." (Quoting from the texts he/she/it sent me.) Interesting. The last time you talked to me, you said: "You'll always be my girl; I'll always love you, no matter what..." Hmmm...

Now, ordinarily, I would over-analyze and try to get to the bottom of all this, but I put up with your lies and empty promises for 7 years. I don't have to dwell on a damn thing anymore, and I don't plan to. So, here it is: Goodbye! My final goodbye. If I see you on the street, I'm going to pretend I don't know you. I will not answer your texts. Don't bother calling me, I won't answer. Good luck in your life; I hope it treats you better than you treat the people around you.

End rant! :)

To the point...

OK. A lot of my followers/friends have noticed the drama going on around here. Some have decided, "Hey. That's not my business..." (To you: I say, "I love you! I wish there were more like you!" Others, however, have decided to jump in the middle of it. You suck, and I've got a special message for you: "PISS OFF! THIS DOESN'T CONCERN YOU! GET YOUR NOSE OUT OF IT!" Thank you.

A cat fight recently broke out on Twitter. *facepalm* Really? Oh, yes...really! And it gets juicier and juicier as the days go by. It started a week ago (I could be wrong on the dates; I've given up keeping track at this point) with name-calling, then an unnamed celebrity was dragged into it (for no reason, at all...that celebrity has *nothing* to do with this. At. All. K?), then more and more people started attacking each other...and it hasn't stopped. What should have been a, "HEY! WTF?! Why did you say that?" Turned into a knock-down, drag-out, let's-get-everybody-I-know-on-my-side-even-though-this-is-partially-my-fault-too, WORLD WAR FUCKING THREE! Again with the *facepalm*!

This is my note to everybody involved: I don't care. No, really. I don't give a flying fuck, anymore. If you want to drag this out and drag more and more people into it...go for bad, do your thing, but leave me alone! I'm done. As a matter of fact, I've *been* done, but people just don't seem to get it! Your feelings got hurt. So did mine. So did a few others. But, guess what? I'm over it. "Get over it or die pissed off." I chose to get over it. You know what helped me make that decision? Here goes, the big secret to how I can get over things so much quicker than you...it's....THE INTERNET! I use it for entertainment, and when something is no longer entertaining, I quit it...Simple philosophy, I think... So, in closing, I leave you with the following Facebook status:

"In light of recent bullshit, I have decided to say "FUCK OFF!" to the Internet. This shit has gone too far, already, and I will no longer subject myself to middle school rumors and drama. Last I checked, we were all adults, so if you've got a problem with me, or my friends, bring it to our faces. The catty, passive-aggressive attitude will no longer be tolerated, or acknowledged. If you come up to me with "Well, he/she said..." I will unfriend/unfollow you, block you and forget I ever met you. I don't need you in my life to be happy. I CHOOSE to have you in it, and I can CHOOSE to send you packing."

In the trenches

I've been out of commission for a few...years, it feels like, so I'm going to take the time to catch you up on all the insignificance that is my life. Yeah, it's important to me, but may not be to you...I guess I'll let you be the judge. *shrug*

First on the list of importance (I'm not going chronologically, here, FYI) is the fact that I've sworn off men this year. I'm done with the over-bearing assholes who build me up just to destroy me later on. I'm done with the constant questions. I'm done with not being able to make my own decisions, without having to answer to some guy who is, most-likely, only in it for the sex, in the first place. I dealt with a controlling, condescending man for nearly 6 years. I'd leave him, but I always went back, because I was "lonely." Fucking pathetic! He, and others, screwed me over so bad, that I am now a jaded, paranoid mess of a woman. They, however, seem just fine, and take no responsibility for my heartache. It's ridiculous, the kind of pleasure they must get from my pain. Well, hell. No, I can't put it all on them, either. I am, at best, hard to live with; at worst, easy to please. Don't worry, it messes with their heads, too.

You see, from my experience, men have been trained on the ways to handle women for their entire lives, whether through observation, or their own experiences. Then, I come along and blow every preconceived notion they have right out of the water. I don't like the lovey-dovey, mushy crap that most girls fall for. If you profess your love for me the first month (hell, the first six months) that we're together, I'm going to run for the hills, screaming. I don't want to live with you, probably ever. I like my own space. I'm not a recluse, by any definition of the word, but I don't like everybody "all up in my business," either. I like the convenience and ease of a "friend with benefits" type scenario. Don't get me wrong, here, folks. I enjoy affection. I enjoy the idea of a relationship. I'm just not very good at it, it seems.

Or, rather, I'm not good at everybody else's definition of a relationship. I'd be the perfect girl for somebody who travels a lot, actually. Most women want their men close-by so they can keep tabs on them; make sure they aren't cheating, or being otherwise deceitful. I don't. I give everything I have to my men. Every ounce of emotion, good or bad, is thrown at them every minute I am with them. It's draining after a while and I need time to be alone, and recharge. I've screwed up relationships in the past because I wasn't getting that recharge time at home. I was able to find it somewhere else, and we all know how that turns out.

I'm not perfect. I don't claim to be. In fact, I'll be the first to point out my flaws; all you have to do is ask the right question. I don't fit in any category, that I'm aware of, anyway. I'm a girlie-tomboy, a self-righteous, self-less, caring, cold-hearted, give-until-I-have-nothing-left, woman. Damn if that doesn't irritate everybody! (Also, I cuss like a sailor and love like a princess.)

That being said, men, as a whole, don't understand how to handle me. I'm thick-skinned, but sensitive; serious, but light-hearted. I'm a fucking paradox within a mystery, within a god-damned bubble. I don't understand me, sometimes, so I get why they are so confused. They probably think I have "daddy issues" and need somebody to take care of me. Wrong! As a matter of fact, that's the exact line that will have me fit-to-be-tied: "I want to take care of you." Fuck you! I've done just fine on my own, so far, I don't need you, so back off that idea, right now. See what I mean? I get riled-up just thinking about somebody telling me that. *calm breath* Now, where was I? Oh, yes, that's right: men and my aversion to relationships.

Let's step off of that for just a minute so I can try to explain myself better, because I'm sure I've been jumping all over the place, and you're probably at least a tiny bit confused. I am serious when I say that I put everything I have into a relationship. I don't believe in fate. I believe that it takes a lot of effort for that fairy-tale romance to blossom, and I'm not about to miss out on that, just because I was too guarded, or because I didn't do everything in my power to make it work.

I've been broken, many times, because of that philosophy, but it hasn't changed the way I am. It's only changed how I choose the men worthy enough of my time. Damn, that sounded conceited in my head, and even more-so when I typed it out. I don't believe that any person, man or woman, should sell themselves short. Ever. You get what you think you deserve, so if you accept whatever that comes along, because it's convenient, you'll get burned. I know what I want in a man. I will also know, within the first two weeks, whether or not the man I'm with will be able to provide that. I don't lead people on, and I don't hold back.

Any clearer? No? Yeah...that's OK. You aren't the only one. I've been asked if I'm bi-polar. Nope. Just thick-headed, like my mother. I like things a certain way, and when somebody comes into my life and tries to change the way I have things, I tend to get defensive. My friends love me, and my enemies loathe me...you can't please everybody, right?

And on that note, you find the reason I've decided to give up men for a year. I'm tired of even trying to please everybody. It's my turn to be pleased, dammit!

But, guys, if you're in the market for a an independent, slightly selfish, kill-em-with-kindness kind of woman, who can cook like you've never dreamed...look no further! I'll be taking applications all year... Haha!