behind blue eyes
06.29.03 @ 12:45 a.m.
Well. Bastard computer that this is, it deleted my long, involved entry on today. I'm too damn lazy to try to recreate it, so I guess I'll kind of summarize.
Today was record-breakingly hot, 96 degrees, so I didn't even ATTEMPT to leave the house. Instead, I sat downstairs where it's always cool because the kitchen is kind of built into the hillside so that the floor is about three feet below ground level on one side. I've done nothing all day but eat and read Harry Potter. I have 140 pages left to go. I had to stop about an hour and a half ago because I was getting too tense about it, too jumpy and jittery and it was just TOO MUCH. I've read 565 pages today, on top of the 167 I read yesterday.
Now it's late and things have cooled, but the light is attracting a swarm of tiny bugs that are annoying me.
I had some ruminations on Catholicism, my skepticism and disbelief in the face of my mother's surprising faith, the slightly insensitive way I argued with her about Biblical interpretation. Somehow she and my dad and I got on the subject of the Protestant reformation and how people got to have a look at the Bible for themselves. Also, much mention was made of the huge revisions Scripture underwent in the late Roman Empire. I was a bit sarcastic about the church when Mom tried to defend it and was skeptical of the idea that Mary would remain a virgin. Mom made some annoyed retort about some people choosing celibacy and I remembered that Dad told me once that he thought Mom considered becoming a nun. I kind of feel sorry for her for ending up with a couple of sarcastic, snarky atheists like us. She tried; she dragged me to church for seventeen years; the last seven years or more of which were against my will. I hated church so much. It was like punishment. Those years were punctuated by shouting matching and crying tantrums to try to release me from all that. Eventually I gave up and just daydreamed through it and made little rebellions. I made up new words to prayers. I refused to sing or anything of the sort. I'm feeling angry enough now that I spent so much of my life forced to go somewhere that never had any meaning for me that I'm nearly crying now.
I don't know. It just never took with me. I can't think of a single period in my entire life where I believed in any aspect of Christianity. I mean, really believed.
Anyway. Enough deep emotion. It's stupid and I shouldn't grace it with as much attention as I've just given it. I just need to find my own thing, which has been on my mind lately (the conversation last night, Candace; Behind Blue Eyes) because actually I think it's Christianity that never took. Other religions have always had some kind of fascination for me. I remember when I read the Clan of the Cave Bear series when I was in junior high, I was interested in all the earth worship stuff of Ayla's society and, oh, whatshisname, Jorodin? His society. I'm not souless. Just last term I was wondering if my aesthetic ecstacy relating to music and the feelings I get from it is akin to religious ecstacy, the kind you see in old paintings of saints.
I wonder what's put me in this mood? I think it's the combination of today's not-quite-an-argument (which probably offended Mom--I'm a little sorry now, but not that much. I can have my own opinions) and my wondering about something that could catch even the cynical Pete. Maybe I'm entering some exploritory period.
Or maybe I should stop obsessively listening to the remains of Lifehouse?
Previously
fuck it @ 08.01.05
fanciful imaginary sea voyages to come @ 07.20.05
*dies* @ 07.19.05
more ootp @ 07.17.05
harry potter: driving our children into devil worship @ 07.17.05
