May 23, 2006
I don’t really talk about religion with anyone in my life. It makes me more than uncomfortable to talk about God or the Bible. I’d rather give a speech to a crowd while perched nude on a stage than to give the prayer at a meal. I will flat out refuse to give the prayer if anyone calls on me too. And thankfully everyone has figured that out the hard way now and I’m no longer asked. Sometimes I tell people that I’ll pray for them because I think that’s what they want to hear or expect to hear, but I always forget to do it. I wish my heartfelt promise to keep them in my thoughts was enough but there are some people that ask for prayers so I feel bad not offering that.
I was raised to be a Christian and to believe in God and Jesus. Regardless of being in Church every Sunday morning throughout my childhood, I didn’t understand the difference between God and Jesus until I was 17 years old.
Over the last five years or so, I’ve been on a spiritual journey that no one in my life knows about.
I’ve questioned a lot about religion and it leaves me feeling more disheartened than hopeful. I haven’t shared these thoughts with anyone in my family or friends because they would all think poorly of me. Not believe in God? What kind of animal are you?! But the truth is, I really don’t know if I believe in God. I think the idea of having some outside force to pin all of your hopes on is a scary thing. I don’t want to blame God for the difficult times I’ve experienced. Truthfully, I’m usually in those difficult times in part due to my own ignorance and stupid choices. And I also don’t want to praise some unseen being when I have a blessing due to my own hard work (How selfish, but really, I’d rather be honest than a hypocrite that gives praise to Jesus while molesting our children behind the pulpit or a rapper who sings about killing his wife and then giving props to the Lord first and foremost). I’ve never really experienced feeling God in my life.
In prayer, I just always felt awkward and stupid. I never felt that the Lord was actually a real spirit that was listening to my little speeches I’d rattle off under the covers at night. I always imagined him perched at the end of my bed, with stone tablet in hand, tapping out my latest request or sad story. It was probably more Fred Flintstone than Jesus Christ. I just never got being “moved by the holy spirit”. There was a short period of time in my young adolescence that I found myself talking to God on a regular basis, but I was telling day dreams more than anything else.
Back to the point which is that I’ve never actually told anyone that I don’t think I believe in God. I say “I don’t think” because I am trying to figure out what that means if there isn’t a God and so I’m not ready to stand by my opinion for the moment. If there isn’t a God, what happens when I die? Ah, the age old question. My ex-boyfriend, Chris, believes that when you die, that’s just it. Lights out. You cease to exist. Flame extinguished. There is no knowledge of anything else like an afterlife or meeting up with relatives. There is no floating about in a cloud. There is no feeling of anything – not even peace. And I just think that’s fucking miserable. To me, that would be my hell. I don’t think I can understand what feeling nothing is like. I mean … nothing is just incomprehensible. Empty.
If it is nothing, then what is all this for? It all seems useless. So we’ve all gotten to enjoy this short amount of time, working hard to make a good life and then just poof? I can’t buy that. Even if it is true, it won’t do me any good to worry over it. I am trying to enjoy everything my life is offering me. My natural curiosity has gotten the better of me, and so I’ve decided to begin studying other religions. I want to know what other people believe. How other people worship. What other people worship. I just want to know what people find in their religion or belief that keeps them so faithful. I’m obviously missing something. Maybe if I talk to people, read, and visit other types of religious services I’ll begin to unravel my own mystery.
April 30, 2006
How do you like my new style? I love the red and teal! Amy does such a good job and she's fast!
A long time ago, I downloaded Stumble!. I forget I have it though so I usually go a few weeks at a time without using it. Then, I'll spend an entire Sunday evening stumbling my way through the internet. In fact, when I remember to use it, I love it. I had to create a new folder in my favorites just for sites I found while stumbling. It's just this bulky folder that has a down arrow button because there are so many sites bookmarked there. Every now and then, I'll just spend time stumbling through my saved stumbles folder. Have you ever noticed how the word stumble starts to look weird after you see it written so many times? Anyway, there are a lot of sites in there that I want to share with you and I thought I'd start with Bobby Neal Adams.
Bobby Neal Adams is a photographer. An artist. And I stumbled upon his site a long time ago and his work moved me. All of his work is amazing, but I was particularly drawn to the Age Maps. I cannot stop going back there and looking at those images. In his words an age map is, "Two photographs of the same person, from different periods of time (child and adult) are spliced together. In this fusion a jump-of-time is established at the tear."
I wanted to see what my jump-of-time looks like. So, I decided to try it out.
Here's where things veer off the story for a moment.
I thought trying this project would just be a fun thing to do. And then I pulled out my elementary school pictures. While I was trying to decide on which picture would be a good size to match up with one of me today, I noticed something that I had not thought of in a long, long time. I settled in on one picture in particular and looking at that face, staring back up at me, I saw a child there and I remembered exactly what that age felt like for me.
1984
The girl in that picture is 10 years old and in 4th grade. She was on the PomPom squad but she had to drop out of it because she couldn't get her math grade up to a C. The boy whom she had loved for the last three years laughed at her inability to excel at times tables. This is the year that she will get her school pictures back and for the first time in her young life, she will say to herself that she is ugly. She will hate her haircut and the gap in her teeth. She will wish her mother had not dressed her in that ugly white lace collar. She will wish her mother would either go to cosmetology school or start hiring someone professional to cut her hair. She will wish that she looked like someone else.
Looking at the picture tonight was emotional for me because I saw myself detached from it for the first time ever. I wanted to hug the girl in the picture. I felt like I was looking at someone else's child. I don't know, it's hard to explain. But I ended up crying about it and while I don't want to make this story anymore soul-baring than it already is (too late, I know), I did want to document these thoughts for myself. I'm on a self-discovery kick, ya know.
Anyway, I enjoyed doing this. It was fun and made me think about myself and who I am now and who I want to be.
I can't decide if I'm impressed or freaked out with my results. Mine look nothing like Bobby Neal Adams'. I almost look like a chucky doll. No matter, the woman on the right is me and I am 31 years old. The gap in my teeth is gone -- closed up on its own with a little time and thankfully, I never needed braces. I have a great hairstylist and although I still find many things about my looks that I don't like, I'm learning to love all of me a little at a time.
Submitted to Self-portrait Challenge - May 2006
How do you like my new style? I love the red and teal! Amy does such a good job and she's fast!
A long time ago, I downloaded Stumble!. I forget I have it though so I usually go a few weeks at a time without using it. Then, I'll spend an entire Sunday evening stumbling my way through the internet. In fact, when I remember to use it, I love it. I had to create a new folder in my favorites just for sites I found while stumbling. It's just this bulky folder that has a down arrow button because there are so many sites bookmarked there. Every now and then, I'll just spend time stumbling through my saved stumbles folder. Have you ever noticed how the word stumble starts to look weird after you see it written so many times? Anyway, there are a lot of sites in there that I want to share with you and I thought I'd start with Bobby Neal Adams.
Bobby Neal Adams is a photographer. An artist. And I stumbled upon his site a long time ago and his work moved me. All of his work is amazing, but I was particularly drawn to the Age Maps. I cannot stop going back there and looking at those images. In his words an age map is, "Two photographs of the same person, from different periods of time (child and adult) are spliced together. In this fusion a jump-of-time is established at the tear."
I wanted to see what my jump-of-time looks like. So, I decided to try it out.
Here's where things veer off the story for a moment.
I thought trying this project would just be a fun thing to do. And then I pulled out my elementary school pictures. While I was trying to decide on which picture would be a good size to match up with one of me today, I noticed something that I had not thought of in a long, long time. I settled in on one picture in particular and looking at that face, staring back up at me, I saw a child there and I remembered exactly what that age felt like for me.
1984
The girl in that picture is 10 years old and in 4th grade. She was on the PomPom squad but she had to drop out of it because she couldn't get her math grade up to a C. The boy whom she had loved for the last three years laughed at her inability to excel at times tables. This is the year that she will get her school pictures back and for the first time in her young life, she will say to herself that she is ugly. She will hate her haircut and the gap in her teeth. She will wish her mother had not dressed her in that ugly white lace collar. She will wish her mother would either go to cosmetology school or start hiring someone professional to cut her hair. She will wish that she looked like someone else.
Looking at the picture tonight was emotional for me because I saw myself detached from it for the first time ever. I wanted to hug the girl in the picture. I felt like I was looking at someone else's child. I don't know, it's hard to explain. But I ended up crying about it and while I don't want to make this story anymore soul-baring than it already is (too late, I know), I did want to document these thoughts for myself. I'm on a self-discovery kick, ya know.
Anyway, I enjoyed doing this. It was fun and made me think about myself and who I am now and who I want to be.
I can't decide if I'm impressed or freaked out with my results. Mine look nothing like Bobby Neal Adams'. I almost look like a chucky doll. No matter, the woman on the right is me and I am 31 years old. The gap in my teeth is gone -- closed up on its own with a little time and thankfully, I never needed braces. I have a great hairstylist and although I still find many things about my looks that I don't like, I'm learning to love all of me a little at a time.
Submitted to Self-portrait Challenge - May 2006
April 14, 2006
I realize by now that I'm not a dependable blogger and that's okay with me. When I say that I am doing this for myself, I really am for the most part. I like having my own little online presence and one place to keep the thoughts and events that I think are worth documenting. It wouldn't be worth it to me if I felt guilt for not having updated in many weeks. Of course, my audience is so small and I know you're either a) my friend or b) accustomed to my lack of updates so that helps too.
I wrote awhile back on my feelings about my weight and felt strongly that it was time for a change. I still feel that way, although nothing has changed dramatically on the outside to prove it. Typically, this would bother me but I've been doing a lot of reading, writing, and soul-searching over the last few months and I've started creating again.
Do you believe that if you tell yourself you aren't any good at something that eventually, you will believe it?
I do.
And that's what I've been doing for many, many, many years. The fear of failing has been too great for me so I've lied to myself to lessen the disappointment of not doing the many things I'd like to do.
This includes activities like cooking, creating art, decorating, singing, writing, cleaning, dressing myself, dating, mothering, and losing weight.
I realize that all this time, I've filled my mind with phrases such as,
"I can't cook."
"I don't have a very good eye for decorating."
"I never know what looks good on me so I just wear black."
"I'm not that good of a singer."
"My writing is okay but my grammar sucks and I think everything has basically been written about so I wouldn't have anything original to say."
"I'm not a very good housekeeper."
"I'll never have another child. I don't think I'm very good at parenting."
"I'll never stick to a diet."
"That guy has absolutely none of the qualities I'm looking for but he's interested so I should go out with him anyway...I'm probably just too picky."
"One day, someone will realize I'm a fraud."
I have an excuse for everything. I'm so fucking sick of it too. I don't cook for my son and I don't cook for my family because I've been filling my head with the, "I can't cook." mantra since I was a young child. In my family, my mother and oldest sister have been the cooks. My son has heard me say it also and so he says, "eeewww, you're gonna cook?!" as if his life is ending. He doesn't really even give anything I cook a chance because he already believes that it is going to suck. Granted, I'm not very experienced with cooking. But, I can learn. That's where I've gone wrong. Instead of just saying that I need to learn more about something, I write it off as something I "can't" do.
The cooking is just one example. You could substitute cooking for any of those other activities and the paragraph would still be the same.
I also firmly believe that this self-deprecation has been my crutch -- my reason for not succeeding beyond my goals or dreams. I've managed to just get by.
So, I've started creating things that inspire me to fill my head with positive words. I'm scrapbooking again, not just for my dog or son, but for me too. I've found that scrapbooking has all of the elements I need and like: photography, hands-on with stickers, paper, and embellishments, and journaling. I keep my eyes and mind open to ideas and lessons that are all around me.
Recently, I read an article in Oprah's magazine by Joyce Roche, the CEO of Girls, Inc. Joyce wrote a letter to her younger self and in it she explained that all those years, she had worked so hard, believing someone would "find her out". She said in her letter, "Stop it." and then listed many things she wanted her younger self to believe.
And that's where the photo in the mirror comes in. I was moved by the letter and printed many of her sentences on a sheet of vellum. Then, I stuck them to my bathroom mirror. Doing that was instantly gratifying and every single time I walk in my bathroom now and catch a glimpse of them, I feel like I can breathe and that I will be okay.
March 01, 2006
I found this site not very long after its inception and I've spent countless hours pouring over all of the secrets. When Frank used to have the archives online, I would go back and look at all of them from the very beginning. I wiled away many hours on a Sunday afternoon glued to this computer screen. When the PostSecret book came out, I pre-ordered it on Amazon. I have looked at every postcard in the collection. Both the secrets online and the ones in the book have all spoken to me in some way. And the art work on most of the cards speak volumes also.
New secrets are uploaded every Sunday but I happen to know first-hand that sometimes they are posted late on Saturday evening. And occasionally, they won't be up until Monday (but I think that's only happened once or twice). I go there religiously, every Sunday. It is my church.
I go there each Sunday, looking to see if someone else has sent in the same secret that I have. I hope there will finally be someone that has gotten the courage to send in the secret so that I will feel somewhat normal. But, it hasn't happened yet. In the hundreds of secrets revealed throughout this project, I've yet to see it. This makes me very sad. And I wonder if I should just gather up my courage and send it in myself. Who knows, maybe someone else is sitting at their computer, waiting for the same thing I am.
This blog is turning into a fucking train wreck.
Self-Made Man 