My friend from high school and I have a long history of making fun of conservative christians. It never gets old or stops being funny to us. I can remember one night in particular, being drunk and the two of us imitating a southern accent for a number of hours saying such things as "That'll put the fear of the almighty in your heart" and "If the Lord puts a gun in my hands, I'm a gonna shoot it."
Yesterday she sent me an amusing link to a conservative christian blog called "My Blessed Home." The woman who writes this blog is a big fan of mumu (sp?) dresses and a website called "Ladies Against Feminism." She writes about female modesty, being submissive to your husband, and females being natural born whores of Babylon. This woman is in a word deranged. So we mocked and laughed. I wrote back to her some mocking statement like "I really need to start living by the word of God." The MOMENT I sent this to her, ACDC's "Highway to Hell" came on my itunes. I laughed and then I shook a little with fear. Is this God telling me he is sentencing me to eternal damnation? He has reportedly sent floods, plagues, and Barry Matilow to this Earth before to warn us all. Did I really receive a call to repent a few hours ago? Then again, would God really use ACDC in such a manner when there are so many better bands out there to deliver his message?
Tuesday, April 22, 2008
Tuesday, April 8, 2008
It's the End of the World
Last quarter in my short story writing class, we were given a strange first assignment. It is said that the shortest short story for a long time was as follows: "A woman sits alone in her house. She knows she is alone in the world, every living thing is dead. The doorbell rings." Our assignment was to turn this riddle-esque quotation into a 1000 word short story. Cute, right?
It was an intimidating assignment. I spent a lot of time worrying about whether I should really embrace the apocalyptic nature of this or try and do something creative. I couldn't find anything creative though that didn't scream cliche. So I did the most uncreative thing imaginable. I took myself and imagined what exactly I would do and how I would react if I was the only living thing in the world. I sat down and the first thing I wrote was "I had little else to do besides laugh." Because honestly, if I were to find myself in such a hopeless and meandering situation as an all-out apocalypse, I'd find in amusing and end up laughing out of sheer confusion and loss.
Earlier tonight I poured myself some chocolate milk, I pulled my hair back, and I put my glasses on to sit in front of my computer to find a job. A real job. Something that can make my life worthwhile, something that can give me a real salary. I spent about two-three hours scouring job websites, looking at different newspaper websites to see if they were hiring. I researched publishing houses, peace corp, teaching English abroad. I even looked at an ad to be a blogger writing about gay porn. As the the pornography example serves to illustrate, I found nothing that suited me, that seemed appropriate for what I have to offer.
I took the clip out of my hair, finished my last sip of milk, and dragged my feet in defeat as I walked the seven paces to my bed. I collapsed upon it and grabbed the book off my bedside table, "Roughing It" by Mark Twain. I read a few pages about his experiences being a tenderfoot in the wild west. I thought about my job search, about my desire to do something more with my life, and I started to laugh. I laughed so hard I had to put the book down. I laughed and looked at my ceiling, speaking to no one in particular saying "What the fuck am I going to do?"
Because at this moment, I have little else to do besides laugh.
It was an intimidating assignment. I spent a lot of time worrying about whether I should really embrace the apocalyptic nature of this or try and do something creative. I couldn't find anything creative though that didn't scream cliche. So I did the most uncreative thing imaginable. I took myself and imagined what exactly I would do and how I would react if I was the only living thing in the world. I sat down and the first thing I wrote was "I had little else to do besides laugh." Because honestly, if I were to find myself in such a hopeless and meandering situation as an all-out apocalypse, I'd find in amusing and end up laughing out of sheer confusion and loss.
Earlier tonight I poured myself some chocolate milk, I pulled my hair back, and I put my glasses on to sit in front of my computer to find a job. A real job. Something that can make my life worthwhile, something that can give me a real salary. I spent about two-three hours scouring job websites, looking at different newspaper websites to see if they were hiring. I researched publishing houses, peace corp, teaching English abroad. I even looked at an ad to be a blogger writing about gay porn. As the the pornography example serves to illustrate, I found nothing that suited me, that seemed appropriate for what I have to offer.
I took the clip out of my hair, finished my last sip of milk, and dragged my feet in defeat as I walked the seven paces to my bed. I collapsed upon it and grabbed the book off my bedside table, "Roughing It" by Mark Twain. I read a few pages about his experiences being a tenderfoot in the wild west. I thought about my job search, about my desire to do something more with my life, and I started to laugh. I laughed so hard I had to put the book down. I laughed and looked at my ceiling, speaking to no one in particular saying "What the fuck am I going to do?"
Because at this moment, I have little else to do besides laugh.
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