I have the flu. And it's not because I didn't get a shot, or because I don't use hand sanitizer. It's because I do not possess any winter shoes. I have a pair of aerated tennis shoes, some holy flats, and several pairs of flip-flops. I got stuck in freezing cold rain all day on Saturday, and my feet stayed wet. I contracted a cold, which turned into the flu.
Thank you, being broke, for making it impossible for me to buy a friggin' pair of boots. Also, thank you, tax return, for giving me the extra cash to acquire a pair.. after I got sick. At least I'll have my cherry red Ukala's soon, right? Just in time for more cold rain and yuck.
Anyhow, the flu. It sucks. It makes work nearly impossible. I have used so many eye drops trying to work today it's unreal. And now I'm blogging.. with my eye drops.. and a really sore throat. And a cough. Fuck you, flu.
I have a super bad ass article to write this week. It's about two of my most favourite things: Star Wars and video games. Together. Yay! I get to work with some friends on it, and I am actually excited to get out of the house and do something -- even if it IS for work. It'll go live next Monday, so be checking for that link.
Sunday I took my Mom to church. It was under unusual circumstances, and neither one of us really wanted to go. But we did; me with my chip on my shoulder and her with her strong religious roots. I used to love that place.. not because it was a church, but because it was a second home. I've never been religious despite growing up in that tiny little church a few miles from my house -- I'm still not.
It was awesome to see the people that helped shape me into who I am. They were extra parents and grandparents, the brothers and sisters I never had. Even though I was pretty much the outcast because I was awkward and socially retarded and they didn't really like me all that much, I will still always remember the countless hours spent in those cramped classrooms and that small fellowship hall. It was something I used to look forward to.
No one looks forward to stepping through those double doors anymore. No one even wants to talk about it. There's a new preacher in town, and he's pretty much the worst person I've ever met. I sat halfway back from the front in the same old pews I remember being a lot bigger, and listened to a supposed "man of God" disrespect and belittle every single one of the people that I loved so much. I've never been so appalled in my entire life. His wife, his friends, and some blind followers have turned that place into a den of resentment.
I stood up after I couldn't take it anymore, hands shaking, tears rolling down my face, and made a very respectful stand against his hurtful words and twisted sense of entitlement. I tried to bridge the gap, and in doing so lost the respect of my grandparents. I couldn't even look them in the eyes as I made a heartfelt plea for him to pull his head out of his ass and act like a preacher, or even a decent human being.
How can someone call themselves a man of God if they are going to verbally abuse the members of the church that have been there since before he was an afterthought? I was attacked as I stepped down and went to my daughter. It was ridiculous. The support I received from others was immense, and without them and my wonderful Mom, I would probably be lost in a bottle of something 100-proof. I just couldn't sit there and listen to the snide sarcasm and the accusations.
I really never thought I would be so depressed to be back in that church. His behavior is atrocious, and his little lackeys aren't any better. If that's what it means to be a christian, I'm thankful I'm not one. He ain't neighborly, and he definitely ain't doing what Jesus would do. Maybe he needs to take a few more classes? Maybe brush up on what it means to be a real preacher? Douchebag.
My cat talks. Seriously. I'm not crazy. He will sit and have a full-on kitty conversation. It makes me happy.
And it obviously makes me the crazy cat lady. Judge away.
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