Rambling, personal, possibly unwanted

Note:
This is part of a series of letters I wrote almost two years ago, when my life was so very different than it is now. I just found them, and find something in them that touches me: how, even though I was desperately unhappy at the time, I still had hope there was a solution and that it would help me.

Second Note:
For the record, I am much better. And yes, I do believe in God, if you haven't figured that out by now from previous posts.

Dear God,

Why can't I be happy?

Buddhists would say I need to let go of the expectations and idealizations I have concerning my own life. that my suffering comes from my attachment to these expectations which my life can never live up to and will never actually fulfill me.

Evangelical Christians say I am unhappy because my relationship with you is broken, probably because of Eve, and my entire life is one long journey back into your good graces.

Other Christians will point out that I am a sinner by nature - that my whole life is tainted by sin and that sin eats away at my soul. That I am constantly tempted by Satan and it is this struggle with temptation which causes my unhappiness.

I say I know very few happy atheists and that all of life is one long-ass journey to find you or someone like you. Perhaps even to touch your hand or feel we could.

I think the Jews also believe I need to make things right with you. That you are loving but displeased with me, that is why my unhappiness is caused by punishment.

I don't know if that's right or not, but it doesn't feel it. I think you are possibly up there wondering what the hell we're doing down here scurrying around trying to please you, as if we know what it is you want.

I think the Buddhists have it right in part - that I want too much.

There are brief periods in which I realize this is my life and I have no other and I just have to figure out how to be happy on my own - here and now. But sometimes that is at odds with my christian self, who feels the yearning is normal, a part of all human experience. I wish I knew.

If you have any thoughts on the matter, feel free to get in touch.

Love, D.

Angst Alert (and kind of preachy as well!). Oh Well.

As food aid finally reaches the cyclone-stricken population in Myanmar, I am reminded again of how easily one population can be held hostage by their government. I watched it happen two and a half years ago on my home turf. Unlike then, the US government has engaged in lengthy negotiations with the military junta controlling the country to allow relief workers to enter with supplies. For that, I am glad, but it doesn't end there. Thousands of people are crammed into tiny refugee camps with little in the way of necessary comforts. The lack of sanitation will cause more deaths.

Today for the first time since it happened, I saw footage of parents in China grieving over the bodies of their children. I was late to work, too busy crying over the helplessness that suddenly washed over me.

After Katrina, I was filled with that same helplessness, but it was coupled with rage. It doesn't matter whether or not I personally know people who suffered on those streets or in the Superdome (I do), what mattered was the misery and suffering I had to witness and yet be separated from. And you know what? I agree with Kanye. George Bush probably does hate black people. Though I don't hold him wholly responsible for what happened. I mean, it's not like he's alone in that sentiment.

Disaster fatigue will set in soon enough and we will all once again worry more about the antics of the latest celebutant than how those parents are coping with the sudden loss of their only child (don't forget China's one-child policy), or how many more people in a tiny country in Southeast Asia no one even cares about are dead because of unsanitary conditions. Most of the rest of the world will move on. I used to feel kind of dirty acknowledging this. Now I realize it is human nature. It is a survival technique that keeps us going in the face of daily tragedy--personal, political, world-wide.

In the past when confronted with so much human ugliness and misery, my brain reverted to what I call "denial mode." Specifically after the OKC bombings and after 9/11, I refused to believe humans were capable of so much mindless evil, and instead found a very brief comfort in blaming, then turning my back on, God. Because as the all -powerful, he should have stopped it from happening in the first place.

But here's what I've learned about myself. I can't not believe in God. Every time I feel I managed to convince myself of my belief's pointlessness, I felt a brief moment of release, followed by constant uneasiness and unhappiness. It was almost as if my sudden fall into atheism became the equivalent of an ill-fitting bra with chronic discomfort and the constant awareness of its existence. And after a few itchy months, I would have to realize what a part of me obviously knew all along:

• the Oklahoma City bombing was a horrible act perpetrated by a very misguided and unhappy young man who wanted to teach us a lesson (that we're still not getting)
• the 9/11 attack was a horrible act perpetrated by very angry and disillusioned young men who wanted to teach us a lesson (that we're still not getting)
• and on a smaller scale: people we love die, sometimes long before we're ready for them to, but it happens because people die everyday and I guess statistically it has to happen every once in a while to someone we know personally. God is not "calling anyone home." That would make him very codependent.
  

I realize I'm simplifying something more complex and messy, but that's how I make sense of things. If I am to believe in God (as it appears I feel I need to regardless of my own intentions), then I have to recognize that I believe humans were given free will in the hopes we would figure a few things out on our own. Some of us have, but most have not.

Because here is where, for me, it ties all together. IF we can cry and mourn the loss of life in a far away country because of disaster, why can we not also mourn the loss of civilian life due to perpetrated violence? Due to war? IF we can become outraged at a government's cavalier treatment of its own citizens after a disaster, why can't we become equally outraged at our government's cavalier treatment of another country's citizens? The questions could go on and on...

I don't believe in a God who puts out an invisible hand to cushion us. I believe in a God who gave us a perfect world to live in and the intelligence and capability to live in peace. I believe that God is now waiting for us to make the connections needed to realize that perfection. It doesn't matter whether or not we believe, or what we believe, as long as we have faith that this world can be a better place. That the anguish I feel for the sufferers of tragedy are not delineated by the cause of that tragedy, or the color of their skin, or what religion they practice.

It has taken me a long time to get to this point. I hope I'm finally getting it.

Something I'm Thinking About

From PostSecret, of course...

Just Some Random Thoughts

I feel blue lately. I don't know why. I should be excited. It's almost Friday. I'm leaving Sunday to visit with friends and family in New Orleans (of whom I don't see nearly enough for my taste - which is something along the lines of every other day...). My bestest friend is getting married in a little over a week and she seems pretty blissed about that - which in turn pleases me because I love to see my loved ones happy. And I get to wear a pretty dress as her best woman (do NOT ever call me the matron of honor, please - I may be married, but there's nothing matronly about me but my bosoms). I even just finished reading a pretty fucking heartwarming book that didn't make me squirm once. Usually I'm the sort of person that always looks for the moments of joy that secret themselves in our lives. But lately it seems I'm the Queen of Doom. And no one wants to hang with the queen of doom. Queen of Dom, maybe, but no.

I keep waiting for this other shoe to drop: the one that tells me I did seriously fuck up at work, I shouldn't have let my irreverent sense of humor go that far, everyone I love is gone and there's no getting them back. WTF?

I haven't even been able to cheer myself with pictures of my not-so-secret obsession, and that's something I can usually count on.

I am a seeker by nature. I am always looking for answers, reasons, angles, new perspectives. Sometimes I think I overload my brain with too much information and instead of helping, all that info makes me want to crawl into a dark space and curl up into a trembling ball. This world confuses me with its constant onslaught of agenda, rationale, violence, and heartbreak. Even when I know in my bones that isn't all it is. I know because of the people I work with who give so much of themselves. I know because of the people I love who embody so much more than greed and blind acceptance. Yet even in knowing this, I still carry the weight of every negative aspect of the world on my shoulders as if I alone am responsible for saving it. Yeah, yeah, I know. Get over myself. Right? Please allow me the indulgence I would allow you in these same circumstances.

How can I feel so down when I see God in the face of every person I pass?

Thoughts? Comments? Random insults or indulgence? Feel free to share in the comments.

The Goddessdster Expresses a Need

Sometimes I'm not too sure what I'm doing here. By here, I don't mean this blog. I know exactly why I'm typing these words. But here, in the sense that I have no idea what the fucking point is.

Sometimes it makes perfect sense.

Sometimes I feel the pointlessness of it all as an exercise in creating meaning out of nothing. If I can say: I tried to learn as much as I could about the world and treated people decently, then I feel I've lived a good life. I truly do believe that smiling at one person each day is reason enough for a seemingly meaningless existence. Maybe my entire purpose is to be little more than a supporting character for the human race. That's not a knock. I think supporting characters sometimes have the most important roles. They provide the feedback, the reaction, the comic relief, so the main character can develop into a fully three-dimensional being.

Who is the main character? I guess if I were one of those unapologetic Jesus freaks (and that is not an insult, but in many ways an expression of envy - I wish I could believe so freely and unapologetically in something not empirically visible), I would say God is the main character of the Universe and we are all supporting characters. In many ways, I believe that to be true. And yet, as it applies to my small life, I think my supporting character role is reserved for he or she who needs me most. I live my life needing to be needed or I just don't understand what good I am.

How pathetic is that? Except I also believe there is no pathos in freely expressing how one feels.

Which brings me back to my opening statement. Why a blog, when I spent so long mocking others for doing exactly this? Am I finally giving in admitting my own hypocrisy? Probably, but I do that a lot. I am here for what I believe is the same reason you are here and so many others. Because if I don't figure out a way to express how I feel, I think I'll just go crazy.

Welcome to my world.

And my point is...?

I've had this account forever and a day. (Not really. You will learn I tend to exaggerate for effect)

This is my first real post. (Again, a slight untruth. My first real post was a tester that was and should be ignored by many)

I have a MySpace page. I loved my page. It was the perfect place to post all my weirdness in one place, picture spam my friends's comment spaces, and write lovingly cultured pieces of navel-gazing mental masturbation. Then I got over it. Not the mental masturbatory essence of it all, that I still love. It's not like I think I'm freaking Emerson or Montaigne. I mean, no one is Montaigne. That man is proof positive (to me, at least) that God exists.

My List of reasons why I know there is a divine element in the universe:

1. Butterflies
2. Tulips
3. the perfect interrelationship of all beings in an undisturbed ecosystem
4. the essays of Montaigne
5. Virginia Woolf's essay about Montaigne's essays

To me, there need be no other explanation. Though I'm sure I'll find some reason to get into that one of these days.