I’ve noticed a trend that I’ve acquired when it comes to blogging that I’m not very fond of, and needless to say, would be quite happy completely altering. That trend that I’m not fond of is that I only blog when I’m angry, or upset, or want to release some type of frustration and tension onto my keyboard and into words for everyone to read.
It’s kind of bullshit, frankly.
But yet, here I sit, frustrated. I’ve opened a bottle of wine, which is almost necessary for my posting, and have taken to my porch to sit and write happily, alone, and in the dark. I have a spanish quiz tomorrow – I need to study – but I came home from dinner and felt the need to write. I’m not really even sure that I’m frustrated, rather, that I have a crap load of things on my mind and I’ve yet to release anything in a while.
For those who know, I’ve quit work and have adopted this college student life. It’s pretty incredible; sleeping in, staying up, reading what I want, studying when I need to and not cramming because work has forced me to, but at the same time, I feel a bit lost. Almost like I’m a flag with no flag pole, a piano without keys, a bow without an arrow – get my metaphors?
It’s like I’ve come to understand a very, very important thing about myself. My work defined me. I never really realized how much I valued what I did and how proud I was to announce to anyone who asked, “so what do you do for a living, Samantha?” and I could hold my head up high and say, “I work for a private oncologist downtown and I work between doctor, patient and insurance companies coordinating chemotherapy treatments.” Now I have the stagnant pause and go, “uh, I’m a college student. But!” and yet the “but” just doesn’t sound quite as good.
I’m just not so sure what I’m going to be able to do when I graduate. Some part of me has this desire to be someone awesome, and doing something amazing, like writing or working for some major marketing or communications place. I’d love to work for Turner – it would be my ideal anything. I’m just not so sure about how I can get there. Then there’s the other side of me that has this burning desire to live the bohemian lifestyle of wandering, wine, life, and love. Minus the whole sex with lots of people thing, because, no. I’m not happy with that. But the Bohemian life of freedom – art, life, literature, love…and love in my kind of way that I’ve learned. Then I think about it and wonder if I can actually handle that.
Then that leads me to my other thing. I’ve taken a proud stance on the fact that I am an atheist. That I don’t believe in god. And that, too, has started me into questioning things. Not too long ago, while driving somewhere with Jac, we were discussing religion and how I seem to be openly in opposition to it. Yes, it’s no secret, I had a really rough go of the whole religion card in high school, which ultimately drove me away from organized religion, but the discussion lead me to question my entire foundation of beliefs. Or rather – lack of beliefs.
I have this firm belief in that there is good in the world, and there is bad in the world. Not to be trite, but, “It would be absurd if we did not understand both angels and demons, since we invented them.” —from East of Eden, by John Steinbeck, 1952.
I believe in evil. I believe that evil has the capability to flood our bodies, consume us, and take over like the plague. I don’t like watching movies that have to deal with demons, or the devil, because I fear it. And thereby brings us me to my problem – how can I believe in the devil and not god? How can I believe in exorcism, possession, and rituals, if I don’t believe in god? How can I believe in something so wicked, and yet not believe in something that is pure? Or apparently so.
Is it possible to believe in God and not the bible? Is it possible to believe in angels, demons, god — and not religion? Is that weird?
I feel myself slipping deeper and deeper into this vortex of thought and questioning without any resolve. I’ve distanced myself so far from religion – shielded myself from every known angle – and pleaded to the universe to not let certain people ask me if I believe in God. I don’t like when people preach to me that, if I don’t believe in something, I’m evil. Or I’m damned to hell. Or I’m going to live a life of suffering or an eternal life of wandering.
I don’t like that.
I’m just not so sure I can believe in evil, without believing in good.
I’m just not so sure where I need to be.
I’m just certain I could do with another glass of wine…