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Lent
Two friends and I were having a late night/early morning discussion about religion at Denny’s over plates of country fried steak and sausage. More specifically, we were talking about what we would give up for Lent. They were talking about laying off things like listening to house music or refraining from driving.
I began to tell them that I thought the purpose of lent was to give up something that was not good for you or destructive to your body so you can become a better person. And they were like no.. you are supposed to give up things you enjoy so you can suffer like Jesus did in the desert for 40 days.
This brought me back to my childhood when my parents used to make me do things that I believed made sense at the time. I come from a very religious catholic background that consisted of church visits every Sunday, Wednesday school, first communion, confession, and yes, even Lent. My logic for all of this was just as it was told to me in more or less words: Do these things, and you will go to heaven.
This statement evolved as I grew up and started to ponder whys and hows.
In my early teens I started to stray from all of the rituals and began to follow the mentality of “Be a good person, and you will go to heaven.”
And now that I am in my early 20’s and more life-experienced and smarter, my charge is much different:
Be a good person, and you will enjoy life on earth.
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Even heros have the right to bleed.
It’s always scary when you see someone stronger than you failing. The world is a cold, hard, place.
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Should have come to Avanza.
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I think I’m finally over you… … … . .. wait.… … … … did you just look at me?
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The in-between.
Nothing is black and white. But sometimes I wish they were.
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Patterns
I don’t know if this is a form of superstition, but I find myself looking for patterns in everything that happens in my life. My quest for some sort of synchronicity is perpetual.
For example, if I wake up in the morning and I stub my toe, I feel like it is going to start a pattern of small misfortunes throughout the day.
Or, if somehow, I have a bad morning, and then something great happens to me later on, I would wonder why I stubbed my toe earlier.
I’m crazy.
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Be kind. Everyone you meet is engaged in a struggle.
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So tragic (Never Let Me Go)
What is up with people’s fascination with tragedy?
Why do people like sad movies? You know, the ones that involve dying heroes and tragic heartbreaks? Why is it that the sadder the movie, the more awards they win.
I have to admit… I’m no different. I’m a sucker for the occasional tear-jerker. Especially the ones that have me pondering for hours after I’ve left the theater.
The movie I saw tonight, “Never Let Me Go” was exactly that. It’s about 4 hours since the movie ended and I can’t stop thinking about Kathy, Ruth, and Tommy.
