My kids are in a play. Right now. They have been in a drama camp in the Middle of the Country, and today is the performance. There are two of them (performances) today. They are in a scene together, and have a duet, and a dance, and everything.

I have never ever ever missed one of their performances. And in two short years, there have been MANY. 3 per year per kid. Maybe 4. I have to say, I'm feeling quite sad about missing this one. I would never have entertained the idea of traveling to the Middle of the Country for this performance ... it's a 2 week camp, it's X's thing, blah, blah blah (and that's not even considering what's going on at this point in MY life). But the sadness remains.

I bet they're so cute. I hope there's a way to get pictures. I guess it's good that X gets a taste of the excitement, and the nervousness, and the process. I just miss it.

I also fear that they will have a harder time once this camp is over (this performance marks the end). They have been seeming to be very busy, and to be having a lot of fun there so far. E has weird moments, though, where she calls here with an almost-desperation. Last night, she called using X's cell phone (which she seems to have unfettered access to) from a concert. So there was lots of noise, and a frantic voice saying, "MOMMY! MOMMY! I CAN'T HEAR YOU MOMMY!" I tried to tell her that it was clearly not a good time for a phone call, but she couldn't hear me. So I hung up. She called back. Finally, she called from their walk home, and said that she just missed me so much, she had to call.

I think that next week, they'll enjoy the ability to just knock around the house, but the NEXT week, they'll start to get bored. And they'll have almost zero access to me, since I'll be in Europe, and I don't have a phone that works in Europe, and I don't want to pay for international cell phone calls.

I will buy a phone card once we arrive, but E won't be able to call ME whenever she's feeling frantic and desperate. She'll have to adhere to a schedule.

Tonight they're going to the HP release party. They're VERY excited about that, and X's wife has been helping them with their costumes, and took them to a second hand clothing store yesterday to find robes and such - I am very grateful that she's so engaged (and always has been) and really picks up the slack that X has always always left behind.

I think I'll go place a quick "good luck" phone call (I realized that I once again added an hour instead of subtracted - their performance is in an hour.)

Labels: *E*, *J*, divorce, summer, X

posted by Zuska @ 5:50 PM 0 comments

Thursday, July 19, 2007

looking up and the sadness of harry potter

i had a great night's sleep last night, and am on my way out to the gym for an installment of endorphins.

spoke with the girls last night - i think they're doing well. they have not gone to see HP 5 yet, so i'll keep crossing my fingers that they don't make j go.

they are going to an HP book party on friday (jealous, jealous, jealous), and E is dressing as luna lovegood, and J is going as draco malfoy. he he he. really, she isn't a bad child.

not only is beloved not allowed to bring the book home from the party at his work on friday night, but he's not allowed to FORGET to bring it home from work on thursday, the 26th. i told him if he comes home (at 9 p.m. or so) without the book in his hand, we will return together, at 10 or so, to get it.

i am considering going dark b/t saturday and the exam on wednesday. perhaps locking my computer in a safe somewhere, and then losing the combination. i don't want to read spoilers about the book.

time to go sweat for a while. i think i'll bring our new book on Paris, and spend the time looking at where i'll be in just over a week.

Labels: *E*, *J*, books, europe, exercise, X

posted by Zuska @ 8:31 AM 1 comments

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

Issue

I am upset with X. I know, everyone's jaws are dropping to the floor.

This is the issue: J hates scary shows and movies. J makes this clear. J has spent many a phone call to me CRYING b/c either X, his wife, his step-father or his mother has ignored the fact that she hates scary shows and movies, and insisted on watching House, or CSI, or inappropriate movies with her. CSI and House have been the biggest offenders.

Harry Potter 5 is in theaters.

E has read all the Harry Potter books, and I think she's (as of now) read them all twice.

I read 1 and 2 to J, and then during 3, she cried Uncle, and set them aside. She's not interested. Dementors are not her thing. I guess she's not into soul-sucking, and in THIS house, that's respected.

The movie is said to be "the darkest of them all." It's rated PG-13. I read a few articles that question whether or not it's even for kids anymore.

E can handle it.

J cannot.

X called me last week. He said, "how firm is this rule that J can't see the movie until she reads the book?" [yes, I do have that rule - but I haven't tried to enforce it when they're at his house, apparently, this is what J told him as the reason why she didn't want to see it.]

I said, "Not only is it pretty firm, but I would think you would understand. Also, it's only 1/2 the reason. The other 1/2 is that it's too scary for her. She doesn't like scary movies." He said, "oh."

Today E told me that they have "a problem."

She and X were going to go see the movie, just the two of them.

But now X's wife decided that SHE wants to see it, too. She's 35. X is 37. J is NINE!!!

You think it's too scary? You think you'll have nightmares for a month? Too-bad, so-sad little girl.

You think you may want to read the books one day? You think it will ruin the experience if you see the movie? Too-bad, s0-sad little girl.

You better fucking grow UP, b/c in the Middle of the Country, there is no respect for your wishes, your desires, your person hood. There is no consideration for your boundaries and your limits. HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA.

Yeah, they're making her go. Yeah, she's crying.

Labels: *J*, movies, X

posted by Zuska @ 6:10 PM 1 comments

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Truly, the last post

The girls called tonight. They're okay (of course). X did make some improvements to their bedroom ... or rather "X is making some improvements to their bedroom." J couldn't go to bed yet, even though her voice sounded like sandpaper, b/c he was still trying to put some furniture together in their room at 10:15 this evening. But he's making an effort, and I know that they notice. This is good for them.

It's good to hear their voices. I avoided telling them that I was sweeping and vacuuming their room in order to get remnants of them OUT and the trappings of BarBri and PMBR in.

They miss us a lot, and it results in them wanting to just park their butts on the phone. I hate cutting them off, but at the same time, they need to live their lives there. They need to be with their father. They need to not hold on so tight to this part of their lives, to the exclusion of the other.

I hate knowing that E has 1,000,000 things going on in her head that she doesn't share, and I feel like I'm being over-scrutinized when I tell her that it's time to say goodnight. That perhaps she's thinking, "oh, mom is glad we're gone, she can't wait to spend her time doing other things." When really, that's not true. I mean, yeah, I have to study, but I'd always rather have them here than not. She asked, though, if she can chat with me on google talk tomorrow, and I told her we'd be out for most the day (Shoes! Movies!) and she was a little disappointed.

I know ... she'll survive. She knows how much we love her, and she knows how much of our lives we dedicate to her and her sister's happiness and well being.

I know.

Labels: divorce, kids, parenting, summer, X

posted by Zuska @ 1:24 AM 0 comments

Wednesday, June 27, 2007

Summer as Torture

One of the worst parts of the days prior to the girls' departure: Tears.

Tonight it's J. She said bye to her BFF tonight, because BFF leaves for their summer house, and they don't return until J's in the middle of the country, and then before J returns, BFF and her family take off for Europe and Israel. They don't return until J is on her way to CT for my brother's baby shower/party/celebration, and then school starts.

This triggered an all-out tear fest about how the Middle Of the Country Sucks. About how all they do there is 5 things: watch t.v., go to the park, go swimming, go to their dad's office, and play on the computer.

I was a little confused. All they do here is go to the park, go swimming, play on the computer ... and?

She corrected me. We think of fun things to do. Beloved takes her to get iceys (she said that like 4 times. Who knew the power of the well-timed Slurpee?), we take them to movies, they have play dates with their friends, we go to concerts at parks.

She said, "every body loves summer but me - summer is torture!" and she had 4 little tear drops coming out of one eye at a time.

:(

What can I say? What can I do?

I got X to agree to a shorter summer from now on - 4 weeks instead of 6 (this year is 5). Two years ago, the girls were so miserable, they came home a week early. I paid the change fee for their plane tickets home.

She wants to not go at all.

Then she said she wants a break next year - she doesn't want to go at all. But she won't tell her father, b/c he'll be mad at her, or he will stop liking her, or he will think she doesn't like him.

Things wouldn't be better for her here this summer. Not with this fucking bar exam. But she said it would. She said that she could hang out with Beloved, and she could go to the library, and she could go to the pool, and she could go to the park, she could get together with friends, and she could BE HAPPY (she yelled that ... it's not a typical Zuska-over-emphasis-with-annoying-caps-lock).

She can't stay home this summer. I'll see how she feels when she returns (always better than before she leaves), and perhaps I'll pass on her request to X for a summer off.

We'll see.

I suspect that now that his financial obligations are being cut in half, and are no longer tied to time spent with the kids (which is how CA does it), he may very well say yes.

Labels: *J*, divorce, summer, tears, X

posted by Zuska @ 9:56 PM 0 comments

Sunday, June 17, 2007

Father's Day - baking, studying, swimming, studying

The girls and I made Beloved a coffee cake for Father's Day. I used this recipe, and had checked it yesterday. I looked at what we had in the cabinets, and surmised that I had everything I needed. Yet, when it came to the eggs, I panicked, thinking "I don't think we have any!" We did. We had 3 (needed 3). Then it came time for the sour cream, and I had thought yesterday "oh, we just used dollops of that on our tacos the other night, surely there's 1 1/4 cups left" - there wasn't. There was probably 4/5ths of a cup. So then I had to research substitutions. To get 1 cup of substitution of sour cream, you need 7/8th cup of buttermilk, and 3 t's of butter. In order to make buttermilk, you need 3/4 a cup of milk plus 2 t's of vinegar. I asked E to come figure out the fractions for me - b/c I needed 1/3 cup of buttermilk. Not 3/4, not 1. 1/3. I needed to know how many t's of vinegar for THAT? She couldn't really figure out the proper starting place. So I did it.

Okay, fine. The batter came out great, we got the cake in the oven. A quick check, though, showed it was a little darker than I thought it should be after 20 minutes (of 55). I looked and thought perhaps the oven was running HOT, b/c last night, when Beloved did the dishes, he left a pot cover over the burner that serves as the vent. So no heat was escaping. Then I realized not only that, but the little dot that I thought was 375, was actually the little dot for 400. Shit.

I think it's okay, though. It's out of the oven now, and cooling. Yeah it's sort of dark around the edges. But. Whatever.

The girls made him cards last night. When they really put their time into making cards, they make masterpieces. E's is like a little scrapbook, and she did a pastel drawing of a sunset on a beach that came out really gorgeous (I may photograph it later and post it).

Now I have to get them to call X.

This is where Father's Day causes angst for my kids. They don't like doing it toward 2 people. They feel/understand/know that they have TWO people to honor on this day, but they wish they could just pick one. But they don't know who to pick. X is their "father" - duh. But Beloved is a huge part of their lives, and plays the role of "dad" 350 days a year. And honestly, he does it a lot better than X.

Well, we're gonna eat coffee cake, and then the girls and I are going to the Town pool. They asked yesterday, and I thought, "I think they can go on their own" (it's 3 blocks away). Then I thought, "Oh! Wait! I am no longer unhappy with my body to the point of not putting on a bathing suit! *I* can go swimming! I can do laps! I can have fun!" So ... I'm going, too.

I was going to go to the gym this a.m., too, but when I got up at 7, I thought calling to see what their Sunday hours are would be a good idea. They opened at noon. Glad I didn't bike over. Since I was going to swim today, I just did some sit ups, push ups and weights here at home.

After the pool, the girls will either a) do something with Beloved, or b) get kicked out to the park with their roller blades and soccer balls while I sit here studying for the fucking bar exam.

Fucking bar exam. I hate you.

Labels: *E*, *J*, beloved, cooking, Father's Day, swimming, X, Zuska the Dork

posted by Zuska @ 12:06 PM 0 comments

Monday, May 21, 2007

The Ham

E was in a play this weekend with her community theater program. It was an adaptation of Shakespeare's 12th Night, which I will admit I had zero familiarity with. E's part was pretty small - she was part of the very adapted "chorus." They were a goofy troupe of actors, re-enacting the play in a humorous manner every now and again when it was assumed that the audience was left confused by either the intracacies of the plot, or the oversimplification of the plot necessary to the adaption for 9-12 year olds to perform the play.

E seems to have been pegged a ham. She is funny. She has no problem over-acting, and she's very charismatic. She had a slightly hammy part in Peter Pan - she was the little brother Michael.

People love her. They love her smile and her exuberance and her ability to get lost in her part. She's really very adorable up on stage. VERY adorable. (She might be getting too old for that word to accurately describe her.) I don't understand where her comfort on stage comes from. Sure as hell not from me. She has no problem forgetting that there is an audience, and just going with it.

I got so many compliments about her after both productions - sometimes, I don't know how to handle them. It feels sort of trite when someone says, "E was so great! She's such a natural!" for me to say, "oh, L was fantastic, too! I loved her song!" I feel like I'm reading lines in a play myself. One person even said to me, "Zuska, E was so fantastic, I swear, I could see her on Broadway one day!" and to that, I just laughed.

We went out to dinner after last night's play at our local Vietnamese place. It was delicious, and we all ate a ton of FANTASTIC food, and I had a basil martini. I love drinks with basil in them. Yummy.

Unfortunately, on Saturday night between the productions, E ended up upset with X again. Notice, there are no posts about him being in town. He did not come. Last I spoke with him, he said he'd "try" - but that he didn't have much notice [it was last weekend ... but we told him about it in March, too]. She ended up upset about her entire relationship with him, and was complaining about how awkward she feels with him, and how she always feels like he's just "pretending" and that he's like an "actor."

Yet again --- she is seeing on her own one of the reasons why her father and I are no longer together, and once again, I'm feeling badly for her that she can't walk away as I did.

Labels: *E*, acting, weekends, X

posted by Zuska @ 9:07 AM 0 comments

Sunday, May 06, 2007

Religiosity IV: My Exodus

Here we are - my final installment in the back story of my religious experiences, which all coalesce to make Zuska the bitter, or is it better?, person that she is today.

Religiosity I
Religiosity II
Religiosity III

X [Like the new moniker? I'm trying it on for size] and I did find a church as soon as we were married. I think we were both uncomfortable with the church world at that time, but we weren't in any sort of all-out rebellion. We were newly married, knew we would one day be parents, and we wanted to do the "right thing."

We went to a relatively large church, but by far not the largest in Birmingham, which a friend of his parents recommended. I was quickly startled at the similarity between this church and all I had seen at Liberty. Liberty was my first exposure to church as a stage, and I thought it was unique. Turned out it was NOT unique. The pastor in Birmingham had the same hair sprayed man haircut that all the men at Liberty had; the sermons were cookie-cutter; the parade of people walking down the aisle so they could "rededicate their lives to Christ" was just as persistent; the fear of hell was just as consistently evoked. I was not impressed.

For a little while, we were just less than enthusiastic about attending. We had initially tried the "young married couples" bible study group - but I found no real connections with the girls [no, we were most decidedly not women, no matter how desperately we were playing at it] and all of their hairspray. X found no connection to the boys. In some ways, looking back, the "young married" bible studies I had come across in those years give me the absolute creeps. I almost feel like it was on the same spectrum as the training of boy soldiers we saw on Blood Diamond last night. They didn't hand us a gun, of course, but they handed us the ability to bind ourselves to one another, to bring children into the world, and to think exactly what they wanted us to think. We were painfully young, and so wanting to do good in the world, and with our lives, and each other, and our future children. But we were so little. I was 21! X was 22.

X was concurrently embarking on another major relationship in his life [our lives], which I think contributed to his discontent with the Church. He was heading into a much more "intellectual" phase of his life, and I think he was ready to be done with the emotionalism. I just thought it was fake, and I was sick of all the damned hairspray. I also thought that the repetition, and the 'sameness' of it all made it suddenly less credible. I was squirming. My world view was starting to crumble and shift.

So we started looking around at other churches. The first thing we tried (which, really, is 100% in line with X, his field, his interests) was the Episcopal Church in town. I was uncomfortable with that church. First of all, there was a woman .. what? priest? pastor? reverend? Had they not read the bible?? Women can't head churches. Hello, sin much? Second of all, they were having AIDS fundraisers. This was absolutely, positively pushing things too-too-too far. How could they support homosexuality like that? I couldn't do it. I felt like there was no point in attending a church that didn't even bother to crack a bible open (which, oddly, was also a complaint I had about Jerry Falwell in that he spent so much time on politics, I would seethe over the fact that there was no real preaching going on).

I think, instead, we just stopped going to church.

Then we moved to Berkeley. E was born 25 days later. Once a kid was in the picture, I felt like we were missing something by not going to church. I had heard somehow about a Presbyterian Church in town, and I wanted to try it.

In the meantime ....

I had a very close friend from college. We will call him T. When we were in college, T was just the life of a party (a very alcohol-free party, of course). He was fun, he was funny, he was warm. He was a very very best friend of mine. He had an excellent sense of fashion, he loved to sit and tease girls (and boys) for their lousy clothing choices, he used to just revel in the fact that he, myself, Rose, and our other friends were considered "beautiful people." I was so comfortable with him all the time.

At one point, X and his friends told me that they walked in on T kissing another boy. I told them they were full of shit, T was not like that, and they were a bunch of macho fucks [okay, I probably said "jerks"] who had too much testosterone. T was my friend. Of course he was not gay.

At another point, T called me to tell me that someone else had accused him of being gay [I think it was X's friend - X was/is a jock, and his friends were of that sort. He was, too.]. He asked me what I thought. I said, "it doesn't matter, because you're not." Maybe I said, "well, we'll tell them that you're not."

I wonder how quickly I knew that I had failed a major test of our friendship? Was it that day? Or was it not until much, much later?

After college, T floundered around a lot. He couldn't settle down. He was flitting from NYC to Atlanta to D.C., and then at one point, he landed in Maryland, at some camp or something. Why a camp? What is he talking about? he said he was trying to be more spiritual. There were things in his life he needed to deal with, and he realized that, and so he was trying to deal with things. I think it was a place like this.

By the time I hit Berkeley, it was clear to me that T was gay, that he had been hiding it, that he had been making up the fact that he had girlfriends over the summers at home, and that he was in the world's shittiest situation. I was angry. How could this be? How could someone try so damned hard, and still not be what everyone around him thought he should be? I felt that there was something fundamentally unfair about a religion that served to make people hate themselves, and put people in a situation where they could not live up to the standard - no matter what they did. No matter how many damned CAMPS they went to. T was T. And he wasn't going to stop being himself because this religion said that he was sinful.

That was Issue Numero Uno -- my doubts were huge at that point, and had nothing to do with hairspray and face make up. [An aside to say that during my last days in Berkeley, T moved to San Francisco. We got together, he officially came out, I told him, "I know, T!" and I apologized for not being more accepted years before. We had a great 6 months hanging out before he realized that San Francisco was not and could not be home for him, and he went back to the Southeast. We still talk occasionally, and every time, it's like home again.]

A second thing: I had made a couple of friends through the Presbyterian Church. They were Very Christian. They used their beliefs (separately, though) to craft a parenting style which I saw as mistreatment of their children. Spanking their babies for crying when they were told to stop. Creating a puppet of an 18 month old who would practically walk in place crying and frustrated because he was afraid of what his mom would do if he didn't listen to her, but wanting to run over to her and grab her legs. The spankings, though! So many spankings.

And my own parenting journey also pulled me away. Dr. Dobson's parenting missives were nothing but child abuse in my mind. Why was I being told that my children were horrid sinners at the age of 2 months? Why was I being told that my job is to teach them to get in line; to obey; that when they cry in their cribs, they're not unhappy or hungry or lonely -- they're rebelling?

This went 100% against my instincts, and I was unwilling to take any of it on for myself.

How much was I influenced by the town I was in? I like to think not at all. I don't think it mattered that I was in a town with co-sleeping, bare breasted, baby-sling wearing mommas who would have had me arrested if I dared raise a hand to my child - because I didn't know them yet. I was alone - other than these two women I met through the church. Who were scary.

There was also the time that I went home to my parents' church while visiting. E was in my arms - she was probably 9 or 10 months old. An ex boyfriend of mine was their with his wife and their 6 month old child. His father was a deacon or whatever in the church, and he got up to pray, and in his prayer, he said to god that he knew that both my E and his grandson were sinners. That they had been sinners since their conception, and until they accepted Jesus Christ at their lord and savior, sinners they would remain.

I walked out. I would have nothing to do with a place that told me and my child and the heavens above that a 9 month old child was a sinner.

So, that was Issue #2.

I believe my final big issue - other than some other episodes that worked to seal the deal - was the Welfare Queens. Another big lie which I had uncovered.

X was a student, and we didn't have that much $$. I wasn't willing to give up my goal of staying home with my baby, and so I decided to try to start my own business. I posted fliers, I sent out letters, and I made phone calls. I ended up with a few lawyer-clients, a few mediator/arbitrator-clients, and a few professor clients. And a couple of students. For the lawyers and mediators, I did paralegal work - summarizing transcripts and depositions and other legal things. For the professors and students, however, I did straight transcription.

Oh how boring, you may say.

But really, not so much.

I worked on a project about sex ed in schools; a project about sex workers; a project about welfare reform; a project about father's involvement with their kids if he was never married to the mom, and it also ended up being a LOT about welfare; and a project about college admissions.

I listened to tapes of conversations with people who were experiencing a poverty I had never imagined. Women with 2 or 3 children and no income other than welfare. I learned what the welfare system really is. I learned about the lack of opportunity given to people who find themselves on welfare long term. I heard the voices of women who were absolutely trapped, and had nowhere else to go.

There were no welfare queens. There was no cheating of the system. There were poor women, poor children - suffering from a true lack of food, education, opportunities, self-respect, respect from others, and on and on and on.

I could not believe how the principles I was taught varied from the truth. How could people just say "if you want a job, go to McDonald's and get a job!" - and put the kids in what daycare? And get there with what car? And wear what clothes when we get there? And when we can't do the work because we left school before we could read - not because we were rebellious, not because we made bad choices, but because we did not have the examples that you had, Mr. Falwell, and your children, and your students who pay $10,000/year [yeah, that was all it cost then] - we didn't have those examples, and those lessons. We had schools that were falling apart and we didn't have textbooks and we didn't have buses, and we were hungry all day.

And I knew that I was lied to.

I was lied to about people who need help; I was lied to about the fact that they are out to take from me - and that if they only TRIED, they would be able to "pull themselves up by their bootstraps" and have everything my parents had.

I was lied to about homosexuality.

I was lied to about human nature, and the sin in babies.

And I found that when it came time to talk to E, as she got older, about the universe, and about church, and about god .... I couldn't do it. I had piles upon piles of books that were full of religious bullshit - written for kids, sent by the grandmas - and I couldn't read them to her.

Because I knew that if I did, then I was lying.

I did spend some time reading the bible on my own. I thought that perhaps the people who I had learned from had contorted the message. Perhaps it's not the religion itself, but rather, the religious. I looked closely at the passages about women not teaching men. I didn't see it as succinctly put as I was taught to think it was, but I still wasn't won over by some new, and newly beautiful, truth. I put the bible down.

Other episodes:

1. When I found out that X had lied to me about how and why we were in Berkeley, I felt like it was all a freaking sham. I thought I had "found god's will" and in fact, I had found that someone wanted my husband -- really bad.

2. When I found out that when he was 8, my brother had been molested by our "worship leader" at church - a man who I had felt so close to, and whose family (wife, son and baby daughter) was so important to me during my later teen years. I was so angry - but less at him, and more at my parents and the general population of the church. At their blind trust because this man stood up at the front of their church every week with his hands raised to the ceiling made them turn off their other filters. I know that I didn't have alarm bells going off about him, either, but -- I think they were there. I hated the idea that someone can just say, "yes, I'm born again" and wa la! Come to my house! Eat at my table! Have my children at your house whenever you want! You are a Christian, and therefore, you are "okay."

3. When I realized that if X hadn't been a virgin when we married, I would have known that for some reason, having sex with him gave me yeast infections. Every fucking month. Yeast infections that made me feel like I was on fire, all the time. That made sex hurt more than any other painful ordeal I had been through (including childbirth!). I would also have known that X didn't give a shit if sex hurt, that he wouldn't be willing to change a damned thing (I don't know what would have worked), and he wouldn't be willing to stop having sex.

And he wouldn't have been a virgin if we weren't told that sex was evil and bad and gross and that we would go to hell if we did it. We would have been able to find out whether or not we made a good couple. Hell, we could have moved in together before getting married, and I would have known that he was not just a tall boy with a high level of intelligence who played Division I baseball, but rather that he was a selfish son of a bitch who had a lousy sense of humor and loved to manipulate people into thinking that they were stupid and that he was so smart that they should never think to disagree with or argue with him, or else he would laugh at them, for being stupid. (Which his daughter, E, has recently pointed out to me - and which made me very, very, very sad. Because while I was able to file for divorce - there isn't anything that I can do to help her avoid that condescension, as infuriating and hurtful as it is.)

________________________________

So, if you take all of these issues and episodes, mix them together with the fact that I never really "got" the spiritual vibe of the religion, you get Zuska today. There were times, while X and I were still together, that I wondered if I made the right choice. Was I snatching my kids from heaven's promises? Those doubts are gone - they were fleeting. I never wonder if I was wrong. Never. I have been to my parents' church on a few occasions since I fully turned my back, and I was not at all pulled by the message or the "truth" as they see it. I went once with my sister, and she pinched me and said, "Z! You need to stop looking so angry, I swear, you look like you're going to explode!" because I just can't fathom believing that crap. Why do people choose to sit down in a town hall or a high school or a store, just to be told that they're evil sinners? When they're not.

I don't think I'm articulating this last piece as well as I'd like to. I want to talk about the brutality of this god of my parents', and about the absolutely SICKness of revering a being who killed his own child. I want to talk about the promise of heaven as it is described by the churches I was a part of: a place where you spend all day every day on your knees praising god. Huh? That's heaven? What the hell is up with this god character that he keeps creating new people, trying to convince them to live their lives in this manner while thinking themselves (and everyone who doesn't agree with them) vile, just so they can die and then fall on their knees and worship him forever and ever amen? No thanks.

I'm going to sit on it a bit - the story's still the story. I'll see if I can revisit the conclusion when I'm more refreshed ... which will likely be on May 19th, after I hand in my last exam.

There may also be more story in how my parents a) found out that I'd turned my back; and b) reacted.

Labels: homophobia, liberty university, parents, religion, sex, X

posted by Zuska @ 10:39 PM 1 comments

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