My Love Is Like A Beacon Of Love

I have never really felt a faith in God. I remember back to when I had to learn all this and that business about a benevolent higher being who didn't want us to jack off or whistle near churches and how I always had a sort of blank reception to them, responding much like a poorly paid child actor with no lines in an action movie. I seem to recall half-hearted bouts of prayer, after which I felt the lack of a purpose or end to to them. Every time I went to confession, I lied and said "Uh, I think I swore once", knowing full well my hands were down my pants several times a day, not wanting either the priest nor the big invisible man in the sky to have anything to do with it. He's omnipotent, isn't he? He watches me masturbate every time, why describe it to Him? I tried, sort of, to believe, for my Mom's sake mostly. My Dad I sort of always knew was an atheist, despite being rather tight-lipped about it, except in arguments with the evangelists on TV. I guess I took after him unknowingly. When I told my Mom I didn't want to go to church anymore because I didn't believe in God, she was visibly disappointed and quite upset. She told me I had to until I was 18. On my 18th birthday, a Sunday, I slept in until my mother yelled at me to get out of bed, to which I responded, "It's my 18th birthday. I'm not going, now or ever again." She wasn't pleased.

"Atheist" as a term implies to me a direct opposition to theism, which I don't really have. I think it has fucked up lots of things in this world, but I am not too terribly adamant about trying to break down religions or convert people. It gets to a point in bitching about religion that you are what you hate the most: Someone screaming their belief system and trying to get others to change faiths to coincicde with theirs. Atheism is a religion in its own right: To not believe in God takes faith just much as to believe in Him. There is no proof either way, both sides are jumping to conclusions. I guess I'm an "agnostic", but I've never been terribly fond of that term. It sounds like "atheist lite" or "atheism for pussies". Why should I even need a term to describe it? Religion just doesn't really work for me and that's that.

I honestly think one of the main reasons for my coming to this final decision of not believing in God is my sheer love of the phrase "God dammit". I love to say God Dammit so goddamn much that I dropped out of Catholicism. Any God that doesn't want me to say God Dammit is not a God I want to endorse. I absolutely adore that phrase. "God Dammit". Say it with me now: GOD DAMMIT!!! Scream it to the heavens, so He can hear! Doesn't that feel wonderful? Isn't that one of the best pairs of words in the english language? I can't get enough of it, goddammit. What kind of an egotist Lord needs to decry speaking ill of His name anyhow? I never even considered "God Dammit" to be all that bad in that "name in vain" sense; you're really just asking God if he will kindly damn something for you. It's what He's good at. That whole lightning bolt from above business was his thing for a while, like when He was into floods or grunge music. God Dammit! I love to say that when I'm angry. It really expresses exactly what I feel. I also love it as an accentuation of certain sentences, like just a simple "Hey, it's a goddamn nice day out" or "Goddamn it all, if it isn't Burt, my mailman!". Everyone needs to love this phrase. If you need to forgo religion in order to say it, so be it. It's worth it, trust me. The void in your life from a lack of a benevolent higher being is easily replaced by casual obscenity.

God Dammit!

Thinly Veiled Sexual Reference

There are few things that annoy me more than poorly timed shits. Oft I shall find myself in the situation of needing to take a dump right when I'm about to leave for work, attend a high-powered stockholders meeting, or give the toast at the wedding of the daughters of top-ranking government officials. Like an uninvited guest with a terrible odor, the turtle pokes his head out at terribly inopportune moments, and usually with a tenacity such that I am unable to ignore it. For most people this may not be a problem, as they can forever hold their peace or squeeze out that white whale of the "smooth shit" of which I am hardly acquainted. See, my bathroom procedures are a long process that cannot be simply resolved with a quick five minute trip to the shitter. It is a step-by-step involvement that rarely is pulled off smoothly:

1. Mental preperation (5 min)
2. Stretching, relaxation, confidence exercises (5-10 min)
3. Regulate breathing patterns (1 min)
4. Find something to read (1-6 min, depending on proximity of worthy material)
5. Bathroom status check: TP availability, soap for washing hands, toilet seat free of loose material and pubic hairs (3 min)
6. Sit, recall past experiences in head, sigh, tell self everything is going to be okay (1 min)
7. Release (5-25 min)
8. Excevate (2 min)
9. Wipe (varies, anywhere between 30 sec and 1 hour)
10. Check for corn, discoloration, internal organs in the bowl (1 min)
11. Flush (1 min, 7 if clog occurs)
12. Wash hands (4 min)
13. Smell hands (1 min)
14. Wash hands again (6 min)
15. Leave bathroom, think of loved ones, clouds, trees and harmony, remind self it'll be at least another day before you have to do that again, make list of things to discontinue eating (2 min)

Each step needn't be done every time; if I 'm in a hurry I'll cut corners here and there. But the problem is I can never gauge how long a shit is going to take, how smoothly it'll go and what outside issues I may have to deal with at the last minute (no TP, no plunger, sewer crocodiles). This unsure feeling of whether I have time to effectively make a poop transaction is seriously perturbing to me, and my body seems to know that, saving the feeling of having to go to the bathroom for the last possible and most inconvenient moment. Damn you, colon, you devilish dastard!

I was hoping one day to exhaust ways I could talk about shit, but it hasn't happened yet. Apologies to those eating.