Are You There God? It's Me, Michelle

So, I'm in the market for a new church and I've been checking out what my new town has to offer. Church for me, for the most part, has always been a good experience, draws me closer to a sense of equilibrium, closer to God.

I have not been to church in over two years, since moving down here and living up in Massachusetts. Whenever I went home to NY I'd try to catch Sunday masses or if not, then weekday masses. I still pray and when I go walking I see and feel God in everything around me, but only recently have I started walking again and I don't think saying "oh God" in bed constitutes prayer.

So, feeling disconnected and since it's a Sunday I went online and saw the choices I had. I picked four interesting/safe/ooh huh?/hmm churches, from the town website.

First was "The Church On The Edge" which is actually held at the Loop and not in my town, but funny enough, Rich and I stumbled upon the Loop the other day while driving around (is this a sign from God?). They claim to create "F.U.N." people. People who focus, unite, and nurture in God's love and purpose. It actually looks as if they're all older people trying to gear towards the younger gen. and missing it by a few notches. What's interesting is that it seems more like a convention meeting with topics and series rather than what I was used to...

Which is the good ol' Catholic Church, safe, something I'm used to and comfortable with, something that doesn't really change and something cold and aloof and prudish. It's actually held at the high school cafeteria and that's different from all the little chapels and churches I've stepped foot in all my life. I wonder if they'll have holy water beside the double doors of the cafeteria, and will I have to sit on benches or individual seats...

The next one, which is the town's community church, is also held at the high school but a half hour after those prude-y Catholics leave. What's a little daunting is that they claim "you'll be met by the friendliest people in the whole world. You are guaranteed not to make it to your seat before someone introduces themselves and asks you to sit with them ". Ahh. That sort of throws out a few warning signs because I like the anonimity of my Catholic Church, except for that purge in the middle/end where we shake hands with our neighbors. Then I scroll down further and get a little more disappointed because they spelled "plugged" wrong. So instead they write "get pluged in" which sounds like a dirty deed with other congregators. hmm. I hate bad spelling. I pluged it in my ear!!!

The last one, the church worship held at the AMC movie theater, their website looks like a tech site where I buy junk for my ipod and computer. What I like is that I can get their podcasts and watch a sermon video and download free music for a limited time*. Also dress is casual which is kewl, although, I do like to dress up once in a while for church.

What's odd is, are they all going that direction where it's just about Christianity and some other religions thrown in once in a while and no staunch, real sect and denomination? I'm more unstable now than when I began!

Maybe every Sunday I'll try a different church. I'll even attend the Havdalah Shabbat Service next Saturday at Temple. I'll be a progressive theologist. Going to church or temple, mosque or cafeteria every Saturday/Sunday. In a way, I rock this idea (still trying out a new phrase) because by being a part of everything I will know my fellow man and perhaps find the understanding I need to be less judgmental, more forgiving, more Godlike. Who doesn't want to be a god or, goddess, in my case. Or I'll just become so oversaturated that I don't care about anything or anyone. Really it all boils down to the same thing, which is, we're all the same so we're all screwed.

What a good way to start the morning!
Cheers,
Me.

*You cannot download free music for a limited time!!

Meh. One Big Meh

Yesterday, one of my co-workers said to my other deaf co-worker (what a label), "Yeah, those parrots can get loud, can't they?" I will miss these people so much.

I suspect there is something going on with those two because a few days before this she had proclaimed that he was loud. I told him that he should be impressed that even the hearing impaired found him loud.

We moved into our third story condo rental (I will attach that hated word "rental" because for some reason I grew up with a stigma towards condos and I don't know why) on Valentine's Day. It is just like how I imagined it with a few reality checks thrown in. None that were too realistic (so no burst bubbles for those of you who thrive on that sort of thing). The first two days we ate at the diner downtown, which was only one minute walking distance from where we live. The second night we ate there, some man who worked there said to us, "I remember you folks from yesterday," then later he said to me, "Well you come here more often than I have so you know what this comes with" or something to that effect. I kinda rocked that. (I'm trying out a new phrase).

So far so good, even with this cold weather. I don't mind cold weather too much, just that it makes me want to make soup and not go out for my daily walks around the park. Yes, two days does constitute "daily". Today, I will walk around the park and then go to the Farmer's Market held at the downtown square area. I need a few things, or so the excuse goes. Jollygoodtimes holds a Farmers' Market every Sunday. If this is promising then I will be delighted come next Sunday, for I shall be off from work, permanently from my current role and on Monday onto something new.

I'm toying with the idea of going to some sort of religious ceremony the upcoming Sunday, then I can be like the rest of the yuppies, in their Sunday regalia, walking along enjoying the quaintness of my little town and its Farmers' Market, held at the heart of town. I try to sound like I'm not enthralled, but I'm a poser, and secretly I love it.

It's four in the morning and I've been up an hour. My body woke me up at 3 on the dot because it was convinced that it was 5:15, eight hours of sleep. I punished it by turning on a bright light and forcing it to write a blog of its own topic. And now it lazily yawns and wants to go back to bed while my cat howls at the door of the little closet that holds our tiny washer and dryer. It's the only door we've kept closed and she hates not having an open door. She doesn't even do her sweet little "mew"s but rather commands and demands with "MOW!!" "MOW!!" She's pushy but I wont budge from this chair.

Alright, maybe this once...

Night night.

Me.

Birdsong

I saw a dead duck on the path yesterday. It wasn't a duck, it was some kind of water fowl. If pressed to give an answer I'd say it was a cormorant.

It was rather ugly and it lay on the path at an odd angle with its one eye opened, staring blankly up at the blue blue sky, the other must have been pointed at the darkness of the concrete below. It took up the middle of the path, as if to say "look what you've done, you can't ignore this!" Its variegated feathers were darkened and somehow the curved wings were trying to flair out in a mockery of flight.

I admit that when I saw it from afar I thought it was only a crumpled black trash bag left behind, or perhaps a trash bag that had escaped from one of the trash barrels and being caught up by a strong wind, was borne or flown to that spot. Deciding that it preferred the ground to the sky.

It died by human causes. That's what I've been trying to get out this whole while. I didn't see clues to this the first time as I cautiously walked around it, fearing that it was only asleep and would be cranky if woken up. But I took note of the strange angle of neck and staring eye and thought to examine it on the way back. When I returned I still cautioned my movements, and peered carefully at it. Behind me the plants in the pond were pushed about by the wind, which caused them to applaud morbidly at me, at the world. I noticed that there was a nearly invisible taut line appearing from its back and I followed the line to its neck and it disappeared into its face. It appeared to be fishing line and I cast my mind to all the possible ways of death and I saw the bird as it stumbled and flailed and gave one last gasp, one more squawk, a birdsong, before finally dying.

Me.


I try not to apologize for this, but its one of my human qualities. As I walked away I wished I had my camera with me. It's a strange fascination with me and dead things.

Little Town, It's A Quiet Village

I am sitting at my window of my third story condo in the city of Jollygoodtimes, also known as heaven. I can see the waterway and the few happy people strolling along, leisurely, with dogs or significant others in hand. Behind me a sound of something delicious is simmering away on the stove and Mr. Hellegood is chasing some vivid dream, just around the corner. Outside the town is encircled by a light morning fog which further helps me to believe that we have stumbled into an unchanging, unreachable Shambhala.

It's still quiet, that early morning hush that only myself and a few others have experienced. I expect that any moment someone out there in the misty streets will begin singing our morning reveille in some sweet, ancient tongue that brings the sun bursting forth from the horizon line, where it's lain, hidden and waiting for the correct cue in the song. Our day will soon begin.



This hasn't happened yet, not for a few days at least, but I'm there already. I've been there for a few months now and I can't believe it's actually coming to this. My ever optimistic side is rolling around, nude, (if anyone cares to know) with the idea of living here, and maybe naively, thinks nothing can go wrong. However, it is my cynical side that writes better and I truly am mortified at my optimistic behavior, (i just washed those!) and am waiting, two steps back, for some god who dislikes hubris to come bearing a large wooden horse. We'll see who'll win out, I believe in the beginning my optimistic side will win the battle but in the long run, I shall win the war.

Well g'morning to you. If you're looking for me I'll be in the little town diner down the street exchanging gossip with the townsfolk.

Me.

Happy Birthday to Julienne!

Onto the post...

I was fishing around for carrots in my pot roast juices, the carrots bobbing around like flashes of golden koi swimming in murky water, when I thought about my fellow bloggers. Those fellows that I don't personally know except through their sordid ramblings on their public blogs. I missed them and in a way they were my muses, my inspiration that helped me make sense of things that I saw throughout the week, the day, the hours of my life.

So I started on the least familiar of the few of my once favored bloggers. Still had it. I was in awe how he made his daily life seem funny and new and the breadth in which he wrote was amazing. Short, succint and all-emcompassing ...enviable. Then I moved to the second on my list, he, on the other hand, wrote posts that were novelas, but still engrossing and thought-provoking. Then the third on my list? One of my favorites. I read and found that he no longer found use in blogging, that he had lost the spark that caused him to write. Perhaps he was happy? I wish him luck in his travels.

It was like finding someone whom you were close with in some forgotten past had died. And you grapple with the idea that you will no longer have something to look forward to because although you were no longer close friends you still could take comfort in knowing that they were around. Perhaps you'd stumble into one anothers' path somewhere down the line, and now they have ceased and yet you still continue, no lucky chance meetings.

It was very upsetting really. All this imagined turmoil in my life is caused by little things, that add up and make up the drama that keeps me in check, and keeps me writing.

Did y'all notice that my blogs have sucked ass the past few times that I wrote? Can you guess why? I gave you the answer two paragraphs down. I was happy with life, with work, with everything, and now, my blogging abilities have picked up, why? Take a gander.

Me.