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Something that shouldn’t have surprised me when I moved down here, but did, was how prominent religion is in peoples lives– and by religion, I mostly mean Christianity. I think what it was that caught me off guard was the fact that a lot of these God fearing individuals were not all that different from friends of mine that I had left behind in the great white north, most of which considered themselves atheists. I suppose I entered the heartland with a bit of ignorance on my side because hardly anyone in my life, in the 22 years before I moved down here, considered themselves religious, or if they did, they didn’t do anything to show it.

Because of this absence, I had it in my mind that people who adhered so some sort of organized religion were extremely radical and undoubtedly serious about their beliefs and that this foundation upon which they based their lives set them a universe apart from us quasi/non-believers and that they made it a point to let us know that this is exactly how it is. I suppose this conclusion was probably a result of the media, since most of the things I thought I knew were influenced by TV and film.

It seems that recently, the people who I’ve been spending more time with in my workplace are either recent additions to the “born again” column, or have been fairly strict believers their whole lives, and something I’ve noticed through having conversations with them, or even observing how they deal to or react to situations, is that while I enjoy listening to the things they believe, I seem to be affirming my own beliefs more solidly and discovering new ones that I’ve never thought of before.

The wonderful thing about belief is that no one can prove you wrong. Whatever train you catch a ride on, or in some cases, conduct, can only be derailed if you falter or stumble or struggle and you let the beliefs of someone else combat and overpower your own. Ultimately, beliefs are theories. They’re hypotheses that no scientific method can test and turn up a false conclusion. Belief is about what feels right to you and what allows you to feel comfortable in your own skin and with the life you live. Sure, some believers may be lying to themselves, but this lie is truth to them and it is keeping them safe and happy and warm because that’s what they need atthat moment in time, which could ultimately even be said about myself.

As long as your belief system inflicts no harm on others and you are not trying to force it on others, I completely accept whatever it may be. I may not agree with it, but I accept that it exists, if for nothing else other than because it helps people survive.

Personally, I’m not sure I could ever settle on any one religion, because as I grow and change, so do my beliefs, and to restrict my self to a single doctrine would be to close my mind off to so many other possibilities and hinder my own growth as a human being.

As far as my own beliefs go, I tend to accept ideas that offer a seemingly endless amount of possibilities. One thing that I do believe in is that we all have a soul and the idea that a body, or a vessel, may expire, but the soul lives on to be reincarnated or reborn in other forms, plant or animal. I have a difficult time believing that we simply live to exist and that when we die, it’s all over. While I understand that life is ours to grab hold of and make the most of and leave some sort of legacy behind to be carried on through the generations to come, I can’t accept that this is all we live for. I do, however, accept that it’s a possibility.

I don’t agree with the idea that there is only one answer as to where our planet and it’s solar system, galaxy and universe originated. I trust that scientists are correct in predicting that the universe was once in a “hot, dense state,” resulting in a “big bang,” if you will, but the who, what, where, when, why and how that came before this is completely yours to believe, and the more theories people come up with and share, the better. This means that to me, each and every one of your deities or lack thereof are equally acceptable, for each and every one of them is accompanied by a timeless story that offers the possibility of adventure to everyone who takes the time to listen.

While I love the idea and the imagery of Heaven and Hell and the peace of mind that it offers believers, I don’t believe that we get just one chance on this planet to prove ourselves to God, just so that when we expire, the scales are brought in to decide our eternal fate. Taking this idea of eternity into consideration, I think that a human being’s lifetime worth of choices and decisions and actions is such an unbelievably minuscule amount of time to decide whether someone deserves an eternity of pleasure or pain. I like to believe that each and every soul is given a chance to redeem themselves. If you spend one lifetime doing wrong, then your next one will do you wrong and teach you a few things. If you spend your lifetime doing right, then your next one will do you right, because you’ve learnt a few things.

To me, it’s all about karma.

It’s about being the best version of yourself that you possibly can, and if it just so happens you can do better, you’ll get that chance.

I do, however, believe in an afterlife. I believe in a place that this life prepares us for. A place where, after we’ve finally passed this test and have battled through all of the trials and tribulations possible on this planet and it’s surrounding celestial brethren until we’ve come so close to perfecting combating these obstacles, our souls move along to something bigger and more meaningful. What this place holds is beyond me, but to me, it seems a lot more rewarding to put to use everything we’ve spent all of this time learning instead of just going somewhere to either bathe in golden streams or drown in rivers of flame.  You might ask why we’re not just given the necessary tools to automatically be prepared for and skip to this afterlife, but it would be no different than asking why God doesn’t just make us all good and allow us all into Heaven.

I simply get the feeling we’re headed for more.

On the topic of feelings, a co-worker of mine defined the holy spirit as that gut feeling she gets before she speaks or acts, reminding her that her actions to follow may or may not be inappropriate and to take a minute to think it through just in case.

While I believe a similar idea, my feeling is no incarnation of God.

To me, that knot in our stomachs is our past lives, embedded in our soul, reminding us that we’ve crossed this path before and to seriously question whether the path we are about to take is worth it or not. We may not remember our past lives, but our past lives are still there to leave us small clues in the form of things like coincidences and deja vu, subliminally pushing us in the right direction, provided we’re paying attention.

Who or what, if anything, put me here to follow this path I’m on and think and believe and act the way I do, I have no idea.

All I know is that I’m going to be the best version of myself I possibly can and while I’m on this journey, I’ll let you all know how it’s shaping up.

Number 22/52 over here.

The theme, unrelated to this post, was heaven.

——

I feel like I may have written something to this effect before, so my apologies of I sound like a broken record.

I suppose it’s bad form to spend all of your time trying to figure out why you have the problems you do instead of just trying to fix them, but isn’t figuring out their origin part of the repair?

I was just reading a blog post by a guy named Chris Guiterrez (Hey Chris!) that I used to follow due to his connection to the guys in Fall Out Boy and if you read it, you’ll notice that one of the bullets in the list reads as follows:

“Learn the difference between vulnerability and weakness. Weakness means your faults control you and prevent growth. Vulnerability is confronting, owning, and accepting your faults, and gaining strength from that process.”

I think I’ve been aware of this difference for some time and furthermore, that I unfortunately fall into the weak category.

The thing is, instead of shedding that weakness, I internally debate it’s foundation on a daily basis.

It’s like I want to be 100% sure of why I have this issue and that this is the only way that I’ll be able to get over it, only as I get older and the more I search, it just seems to get worse.

All through high-school I took drama classes, acting in front of paying audiences, with the high being when I played Robin Hood in the 12th grade, reciting 250+ lines in front of sold out crowds.

Talk about vulnerable.

That’s a lot of lines and placement and cues to remember, something that in the ninth grade I thought I’d never be able to do.

But despite these things, I got up there and I rocked every play I was in.

Which makes me wonder how I was ever able to do that, considering the fear that practically paralyzes me today.

The way I see it, there was some semblance of comfort in those situations because we practiced to avoid failure, because that’s ultimately what this is for me.

It’s a fear of failing.

A fear of humiliation.

I’d like to think that I didn’t have this problem then, but that’s not true, because when it came to improv games, I made excuses to get out of playing them 96% of the time because I had a much higher chance of being humiliated.

You have to think of things on the spot.

Be quick.

Think fast.

I was never good at this and didn’t feel comfortable doing it so I opted out.

I’m still not good at it, either.

I restrict the amount of conversations I have that require thought and intelligence because I have poor recall ability, poor memory, and a low level of academic prowess.

I like to tell people that I’m more of an observer and that I like to experience being outside of the situation, learning by letting others experience, but really, it’s because I don’t feel like I have any place being a part of the conversation because I have little to share.

I mean, no matter how much I observe, the aforementioned poor memory and ability to recall previous conversations and situations restricts me from learning very much at all.

This is why I have always enjoyed writing so much.

It allows me to feel more intelligent because I can take my time to be more intelligent, even if I do look words up in the dictionary and do bits and pieces of research when compiling posts.

I went off the rails a little the other day with my rant regarding my plead to be told to shut up.

While it was how I felt in that moment, I was wrong.

My posts are not me being full of hot air nor do I think they’re crap.

To me, they are thoughtful and wise and intelligent and I am proud of (most of) them.

I was just frustrated that this person that I am when I am at a keyboard isn’t the same person I am in the flesh and furthermore, that I’ve let the person I am in the flesh invade the person that I am at the keyboard.

All of my lack of confidence and fear of failure and repression that I exude all too well in person seems to have completely restricted my ability to sit down and write and feel confident in what I’ve put down enough to publish it.

Well here’s to not only abolishing this from happening anymore, but that I can instill some of the traits my fingers are home to into the rest of my body.

I may not be on stage again any time soon, but hopefully I can at least find it in myself to finally turn my photography skills away from self-portraiture to actually taking pictures of other people.

My posts are exhausting.

I have a few drafts that I’ve written and hadn’t quite figured out how to piece them together coherently and I went back to read them and got one or two sentences in and gave up.

I just somehow at some point in time got this idea in my head that I’m so incredibly thoughtful and wise when really I’m just full of hot fucking air.

I just type and type and type and don’t even know what the fuck I’m saying. Ask me what my last post was about, cause you’ll definitely catch me having no bloody idea.

Someone needs to tell me to shut up once in a while.

I mean, without going overboard, of course. No need for insisting you’d rather stick an icepick in your eye than listen to me.

But seriously, tell me that if I’m going to bother putting anything out there that I should actually think about it and not just spew my verbal diarrhea all over the place.

This is not to say nothing I’ve ever written has ever been thoughtful and from the heart.

I’m simply stating most of my “writings” are “scribblings,” which is just a euphemism for “crap.”

The problem is that I’ve had too many people in my life tell me how awesome or great or intelligent I am and really, if you hear that enough it just doesn’t mean anything anymore. Especially if you think you’re sub-par at most things you do.

It’s the people that don’t bow to my “greatness” that actually get to me. The more I don’t receive praise and congratulations from people, that’s when I start to try harder.

It may piss me off, but it’s that anger that fuels the motivational fire.

So seriously, tell me to shut up.

Tell me to fuck off.

Tell me I suck.

And while you’re doing that, tell me why.

We’re all flawed and we all need to hear it.

How can we ever get better if we never know whats wrong to begin with?

We can only be self aware to a certain extent, you know?

Stripes: number 16 of 52 over here.

Recently, we received a workbook that outlines our understanding of the sales process at my workplace and were asked to go through and complete it. Upon sifting through the nonsense, I came across an “attitude assessment” that used “yes” or “no” answers and a Cosmo-style points system to rate our attitude, and one of the statements hit me pretty hard.

“I tend to focus more on what I dislike about people rather than what I like.”

*raises hand*

I think it’s safe to say that if you value our acquaintanceship, you might as well refrain from pursuing anything more because unfortunately, the more I know about you, the less I’m probably going to like about you.

I’m sure there’s a laundry list of personal issues that lead me to this point, but you might as well just call me an asshole because it’s probably what I think of you.

Perhaps it’s some kind of defense mechanism to protect me from letting people into my life, assuming I’ll just be hurt by them, or maybe I’m simply becoming more and more intolerant and unforgiving of an individuals shortcomings, despite the fact that I probably share some of the very same ones, or maybe I suffer from an inferiority complex and can’t help but push myself up on a pedestal by picking out all of the little things that bother me about you, but I am most definitely guilty of this.

I meet someone, I get a sense of their attitude towards life and the way they present themselves and a few of their opinions and that’s all I need. I develop a quick opinion about the individual without knowing who they really are, weigh it all out without even considering how thick of a mask they wear, and voila, if I dislike more than I like, they’re a victim of my prejudice before I even think of asking any questions.

And I say victim because if I don’t like you, you’ll usually know it.

Chances are you have fallen into this inescapable trap that I set because, really, it’s rare that anyone is safe from it.

For all of the above, I am sorry.

I am inexplicably, undeniably, unabashedly apologetic for being so out of touch.

I’ve always considered myself to be fairly down to earth and calm and collected but I think these are all just adjectives I’ve been using to mask how uptight and on edge I really am and despite my cool and relaxed demeanor, I’ve been this way for years.

Today, I witnessed someone with diabetes crash. Their blood sugar went way down and it was as if they were blacked-out drunk. Completely incoherent and unbelievably vulnerable.

This individual just so happens to be the latest in my string of prejudgments.

Up until that point, I couldn’t stand the guy. He was full of shit, condescending, belittling, a follower, a brown-noser, etc. etc. etc.

Every move or sound he made got under my skin.

But after that point, none of this seemed to matter to me anymore. It didn’t matter because I had a chance to see him when none of what made him that way mattered to him. I got to see someone who had, for a moment in time, completely shed every layer of skin that had been tainted by the world around them.

He was pure and innocent.

He was human.

Sure, the minute his blood sugar levels are back to normal, he will also be, but that wont make me forget the fact that he showed me what we all have inside of us.

What we’re all covering up.

What we’ll probably never show anyone as long as we can control it.

What most of us don’t even know how to show even if we wanted to because it’s buried so deep that we can’t even find it.

You hear stories of evil people who, despite all of the wrong they’ve done, have mothers that still love them and I think it’s because these mothers can’t help but hold onto the moment that they brought that life into the world. They can’t help but remember a time when their son or daughter wasn’t subjected to the influence of the outside world and lead down the path they followed and they were just a small ball of vulnerability and innocence.

It’s something I have to keep reminding myself.

We were all that way once and despite how awful we may be, it’s still and will always be inside of us.

Love is protecting each other from the many trials and tribulations in life.

Such as rabid moose with carpet like fur.

Love is finding a balance.

While one paddles, the other drinks a gin and tonic.

See? Balance.

Love is solving problems together and learning from your mistakes.

ie. Neither end of a fork is going to get you up shit creek very fast.

You’re still without a paddle.

Love is spending time with family and friends… and gnomes.

Just watch out for evil, sinister gnomes.

When you cross one of these, go back to point #1.

Most importantly, love is remembering to have fun and not take life too seriously.

Kind of like paddling a cardboard boat with a cardboard oar and staring off into the distance when the distance is a wall four feet away.

That is a real gin and tonic, though.

What?

You’re drunk.

Happy Valentine’s Day to you all.

Cheers!

This is me wishing I could walk on air.

The babyface and I are training for a half-marathon and already subjecting my legs to 45 hours on concrete floors every week, its tough to find a time when my legs are healthy enough to run longer distances.

Never mind longer distances, I only got 1.5 miles in the other day before my knee and ankle started to hurt.

At one point I was all “push through the pain” but that would just end up putting me out for longer periods of time.

The key, I suppose, is to get my ass to bed and out of bed earlier so that I can do it before I go to work instead of trying to do it after a 10 hour shift.

Yeah, I’m lazy and stupid.

What?

Number 15 of 52 for my 52 week project over here where the theme was pain.

One of the first things that came to mind when I read the theme was the mid 90′s movie A Long Kiss Goodnight with Geena Davis and Samuel L. Jackson, when she was actually in a lot and before he was in everything.

To this day, I still enjoy that movie and at the time, I loved it and because I loved it so much, I took a quote away from it that has stuck with me to this day.

The premise of the movie is that Geena Davis’s character had a dark past that was covered up by amnesia and after getting into a car accident, everything started to slowly come back to her. At one point early on in her remembering things, she took her daughter to a local skating rink and when her 8 year old daughter fell and started crying (by the way, if you’re a Californication fan, the daughter is the IRL younger sister of Mia), something clicked and instead of consoling her daughter, she grabbed her, pulled her up and said to her “Life is pain. Get used to it.”

Depressing, I know, but as sad as it sounds, I think this quote is ultimately a part of my foundation.

I tend to be an extremely care-free person who doesn’t worry about much of anything, which since I’ve been married, I’ve come to realize this isn’t the best quality to have, because if I’m not worrying about anything, that means the babyface is worrying about everything and that is completely unfair, so it’s something I’m working on.

I think, though, that what makes me worry so little is the fact that I understand how much pain there is in the world and in life and because of this, I’ve built this wall to protect me from it.

I’ve gotten used to it.

This is not to say I’m completely void of emotion and heartless, but more so that my emotional extremes are reserved for times when they are really necessary and at most other times, I’m calm and collected.

I think this quote goes hand in hand with the “expect the worst and hope for the best” that my brother shot my way when I was younger.

Ultimately, life is pain, and this goes back to an earlier post where I discussed how I tend to remember the more negative points in my life than the positive, simply because it’s from the negative that we learn. Not to mention, without pain, we would know no pleasure.

But if that’s the case, maybe I should start letting a little more in, yeah?

As far as my picture goes, my mind wandered from idea to idea, and after watching 12 or 13 episodes of Dexter, I was inspired to emulate everyone’s favourite blood spatter analyst.

My 14th entry in my project 52 over here tackles the theme of night. Not a particularly difficult theme to emulate as each and every one of us is familiar with it.

It’s dark, sometimes moonlit, and if you’re far enough away from the city lights, starlit as well.

Sometimes I dream of blackouts, if even just for one night so that we can all be reminded of how beautiful the night sky is.

When I was younger, my brothers and I would use the one city light on our street for target practice for our slingshots and BB guns. It would take the city longer and longer to come out and repair it each time, so we ended up having that much more time to see the stars the best we could. There weren’t many more street lights in our area, so by knocking that one out, we had a pretty good view of the stars and even the northern lights during the colder months.

While I do miss the northern lights, I sense never having to miss a clear nights sky again coming our way soon enough.

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music in its roar:
I love not man the less, but Nature more.

~George Gordon, Lord Byron, Childe Harold’s Pilgrimage