I joined an alumni site of my old high school a couple of months ago. At first, it was cool: a trip back down memory lane, reconnecting with some people I haven't seen in many moons and who, upon further thought, I wouldn't mind the reconnection.
Then there are the bible-thumping idiots who are ruining the site. (yeah, I said it).
My hometown is heavily religious. Churches abound and Christianity rules. Protestant-based religions are the norm, with Baptist being one of the big ones. Then there is the abundance of storefront churches and their ilk, with creative, rather long names like Temple of the Anointed Apostolic Assembly of God the Redeemer Who Lives. A small sect of Muslims have staked their claim, as evidenced by the Muslim school and mosque that have stood for at least the past 10 years.
Good for them.
Back to this alumni site. I was asked by one of the admins to contribute original content, which I did. I definitely didn't expect to be vilified by those who proclaim Jesus as their personal savior. If bibles could have been thrown, I would have been buried in them...all because I didn't feel like adding to my friend list those who made my high school life unpleasant. The"people change" and "forgiveness is divine" mantras flew so much, it was like the product of one huge Vulcan mind meld. One even went so far as to tell me that during his ten years of ministry, he noticed that those who didn't forgive didn't have a relationship with Jesus.
Hmm...someone else (a voice of reason!) brought up a point: just because someone has changed, and that I've forgiven them for being teenage demon seed, doesn't mean that I need to invite them into my personal space for them to demonstrate that they have indeed change. I also added that having x amount of years in anyone's ministry doesn't qualify one to be an expert on Jesus, God, and the Gospel, any more than standing in a garage makes you a car (word to Joyce Meyer).
I read the comments of these people, and also notice that one of the most popular groups is a group for those who love Jesus. Now, I'm not knocking anyone's spiritual path (I believe in God myself), but hitting everyone over the head with it is a bit much. Everyone has their own personal connection with God/Allah/Buddha/(insert your favorite deity here), and that is that person's choice on how to walk it.
Then again...my hometown is not known for its original thinking.
As noted in my blog profile, I state that my location is the Federal Witness Protection Program. Today, someone actually posted a comment telling me that he practiced law for many years and that I shouldn't be on the Internet if I was in this program.
*head in hands*
Jesus, be a critical thinker.
I never noticed how...cult-like the religious activity is in this town.
Loving God, Jesus, or whomever your Higher Power is is one thing, but the God I serve doesn't want His followers to fall for the okeydoke, either. He liked people to use the brains He gave them. There is a scripture about narrow is the way and strait is the gate to Heaven...well, a bunch of people spouting Scripture without thought of what it actually means brings to mind another incident--Jim Jones, anyone?
Well, the Kool-Aid must be mighty good down here. Or maybe it's anointed sweet tea (this is the South, after all).
I saw a bumper sticker that says it best: God wants spiritual fruit, not religious nuts. The people in this town are clear examples of the latter category, as is anyone who blindly follows a religious system that is predicated and mandates such blindness...especially since anyone other than a pastor/bishop/reverend is apparently too low on the totem pole for God to speak to and through directly.
Faith is one thing (and is highly recommended), but deliberate ignorance is unacceptable. Repeat the mantra: stupid people should be avoided because they will get you killed. You see what happens to lemmings. Exactly.
Speaking of religious leaders...the whole self-appointment of titles has always amused me. Call me a bit sheltered, but it has alwyas been my understanding that the only true Bishops are either of the Catholic faith--where the title of Bishop requires YEARS of study, work, and ceremony...even a special outfit, complete with purple sash and amethyst ring)--or of the African Methodist Episcopal (AME) faith (think Bishop Vashti Murphy McKenzie)--come to think of it, their bishops wear purple, too.
(y'all need to read The Thorn Birds. For real.)
Yet people are so quick to follow behind someone who adopts such a moniker and proclaims him-or herself to be on God's speed dial.
I guess slavery isn't outlawed after all.
Thanks for stopping by.
T.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Tuesday, July 08, 2008
Crossing The Same River Twice
I'm home for an extended visit, and the adage is indeed true: you can't cross the same river twice because at the point where you crossed, it's not the same river and you're not the same (wo)man.
*drops $20 in the collection plate*
Truer words were never spoken.
I've been gone a long time: 11 years and some change, to be exact. And I would expect that some changes would occur: new buildings, things like that. What I didn't count on was that the biggest change would be me.
To say that I am not the same person who left here 11 years ago is an understatement. I have lived on both coasts, and mainly up north. I've experienced things that a lot of people haven't (some of which I hope no one will ever have to deal with). I've met so many different types of people that have opened my eyes to the true vastness of this big rock we call Earth. I've been able to live a gypsy life due to being single with no children (I had a cat, God rest her furry soul, but she fit under an airplane seat and rather enjoyed flying), and my life is the richer for it (more financially challenged, but still richer).
My extended visit while I figure out my next move has, so far, been a challenge. Let's stick in another adage: the more things change, the more they stay the same. Yes, there are new buildings, new highways, and new housing developments, but the overall mentality is still the same. It's comforting, yet it also saddens me. I may have been a square peg among round holes back in the day, but now I'm like a camel trying to fit through the eye of a needle.
A relative kept asking me my plans for a Saturday, being that she was concerned about how much time I was keeping to myself. What she fails to understand is: I have friends here. Old friends, good friends, and they will always be such. However, over the years our lives have taken different paths: some have children. Some are in relationships or married. Some have to care for ailing relatives. Some are focused on careers. That being said, my absence may have created a slight vacuum that they have filled otherwise, and it would be arrogant of me to think that I could just slide back into my previous role. For one, I no longer fit and for two, that spot may no longer be available.
(more on my arrogance later).
When I was a Girl Scout many, many moons ago, I learned a song that said,
Make new friends but keep the old
One is silver and the other gold
Perhaps it's time to mine for silver and just keep the gold in a vault: something to be taken out once in a while and admired, and polished to keep it shining...before returning it to the vault due to being so valuable and in need of protection and security.
Now, back to my arrogance: I'm in an area with a lot of colleges within a 15-mile radius. In my hometown, one of them is extremely prominent (and a sister institution has bought up most of my hometown. *sigh*). Not trying to be mean, but one would think that with all of that brainpower concentrated in the same spot, there would be a higher level of...intellectual discourse, shall we say.
Nope.
Like most of us, we are loyal to our alma maters and, of course, think that we went to the best school in the universe. At home, with so many institutions of higher learning so close together, that cliquishness is taken to a whole 'nother level. One may be forgiven for attending a different school within that aforementioned 15-mile radius, and you may get a (albeit begrudging) pass for going to school outside of the radius but within the state (and it depends on the school as well)...but woe unto those who crossed state lines altogether (like me).
It doesn't really help matters that my alma mater is considered one of the top schools in the country (it's even has a more prestigious reputation than the big-dog college in my hometown--we even spawned a two-term US president!). I went to school with minor royalty, celebrities and kids of celebrities (Missy Gold--that cute little girl on the old show Benson-- and Chutney Ross, daughter of Diana Ross, also graduated from there). It was difficult to get admitted to my alma mater, and even more difficult to get out. That, combined with the area in which the school is located, lends its alumni a...yes, an arrogance. We not only made the cut, but we ran the gauntlet and got out...bruised, battered, poorer, illusions shattered, but alive and with that huge piece of lambskin in hand. A lot of folks can't say that. It's understood (and even subtly encouraged) in the area where the school is, since a lot of us get tapped for jobs there after graduation. But outside of that area, well...the wicket gets sticky.
Outside of a college environment, there seems to be a lack of...well, people like me. I can't describe it; it 's just a feeling, a way of life that knows you've danced with the best of the best and came out on the other side, and the people around you are cut from the same cloth. I mean, staying in one place my whole life is such a foreign concept to me (and kids to boot!), yet I am surrounded by many who have done just that. Finding a common ground (for me) just becomes that much more difficult.
Sounds arrogant? Yep. But that's my head space right now, and I miss it.
I miss a certain level of intellectual stimulation, even as I understood that this may be the case upon coming back. I miss a certain level of acceptance of differences. I miss being able to truly be me. Coming back, I've had to try to stay true to myself in the face of those who wish to keep me in a box so that they could feel more comfortable (and safe), and it's beginning to stifle.
Sometimes I feel like Louis Farrakhan at a pig pickin'.
Thanks for stopping by.
T.
*drops $20 in the collection plate*
Truer words were never spoken.
I've been gone a long time: 11 years and some change, to be exact. And I would expect that some changes would occur: new buildings, things like that. What I didn't count on was that the biggest change would be me.
To say that I am not the same person who left here 11 years ago is an understatement. I have lived on both coasts, and mainly up north. I've experienced things that a lot of people haven't (some of which I hope no one will ever have to deal with). I've met so many different types of people that have opened my eyes to the true vastness of this big rock we call Earth. I've been able to live a gypsy life due to being single with no children (I had a cat, God rest her furry soul, but she fit under an airplane seat and rather enjoyed flying), and my life is the richer for it (more financially challenged, but still richer).
My extended visit while I figure out my next move has, so far, been a challenge. Let's stick in another adage: the more things change, the more they stay the same. Yes, there are new buildings, new highways, and new housing developments, but the overall mentality is still the same. It's comforting, yet it also saddens me. I may have been a square peg among round holes back in the day, but now I'm like a camel trying to fit through the eye of a needle.
A relative kept asking me my plans for a Saturday, being that she was concerned about how much time I was keeping to myself. What she fails to understand is: I have friends here. Old friends, good friends, and they will always be such. However, over the years our lives have taken different paths: some have children. Some are in relationships or married. Some have to care for ailing relatives. Some are focused on careers. That being said, my absence may have created a slight vacuum that they have filled otherwise, and it would be arrogant of me to think that I could just slide back into my previous role. For one, I no longer fit and for two, that spot may no longer be available.
(more on my arrogance later).
When I was a Girl Scout many, many moons ago, I learned a song that said,
Make new friends but keep the old
One is silver and the other gold
Perhaps it's time to mine for silver and just keep the gold in a vault: something to be taken out once in a while and admired, and polished to keep it shining...before returning it to the vault due to being so valuable and in need of protection and security.
Now, back to my arrogance: I'm in an area with a lot of colleges within a 15-mile radius. In my hometown, one of them is extremely prominent (and a sister institution has bought up most of my hometown. *sigh*). Not trying to be mean, but one would think that with all of that brainpower concentrated in the same spot, there would be a higher level of...intellectual discourse, shall we say.
Nope.
Like most of us, we are loyal to our alma maters and, of course, think that we went to the best school in the universe. At home, with so many institutions of higher learning so close together, that cliquishness is taken to a whole 'nother level. One may be forgiven for attending a different school within that aforementioned 15-mile radius, and you may get a (albeit begrudging) pass for going to school outside of the radius but within the state (and it depends on the school as well)...but woe unto those who crossed state lines altogether (like me).
It doesn't really help matters that my alma mater is considered one of the top schools in the country (it's even has a more prestigious reputation than the big-dog college in my hometown--we even spawned a two-term US president!). I went to school with minor royalty, celebrities and kids of celebrities (Missy Gold--that cute little girl on the old show Benson-- and Chutney Ross, daughter of Diana Ross, also graduated from there). It was difficult to get admitted to my alma mater, and even more difficult to get out. That, combined with the area in which the school is located, lends its alumni a...yes, an arrogance. We not only made the cut, but we ran the gauntlet and got out...bruised, battered, poorer, illusions shattered, but alive and with that huge piece of lambskin in hand. A lot of folks can't say that. It's understood (and even subtly encouraged) in the area where the school is, since a lot of us get tapped for jobs there after graduation. But outside of that area, well...the wicket gets sticky.
Outside of a college environment, there seems to be a lack of...well, people like me. I can't describe it; it 's just a feeling, a way of life that knows you've danced with the best of the best and came out on the other side, and the people around you are cut from the same cloth. I mean, staying in one place my whole life is such a foreign concept to me (and kids to boot!), yet I am surrounded by many who have done just that. Finding a common ground (for me) just becomes that much more difficult.
Sounds arrogant? Yep. But that's my head space right now, and I miss it.
I miss a certain level of intellectual stimulation, even as I understood that this may be the case upon coming back. I miss a certain level of acceptance of differences. I miss being able to truly be me. Coming back, I've had to try to stay true to myself in the face of those who wish to keep me in a box so that they could feel more comfortable (and safe), and it's beginning to stifle.
Sometimes I feel like Louis Farrakhan at a pig pickin'.
Thanks for stopping by.
T.
A Happy Meal in a Super-Sized World
It's official: having meat on your bones is the new black.
For those that beg to differ: have you seen clothing stores lately? Being petite is not the hotness. Petite Sophisticate (R.I.P.) closed its doors a few years ago. Cacique, which used to be my favorite lingerie store, made a change and now caters exclusively to full-figured women.
For those of you who have felt shunned by stores in the past, you may not give a whit; in fact, you may be rejoicing at the downfall of the single-digit-sized women. You may be gleeful that the pendulum is finally swinging your way. I, for one, ain't mad at y'all. Take back the...er...dressing rooms. Love your rolls. Do you.
However...this trend in clothing has left me feeling rather bereft as I continue to struggle and find decent clothes. It's not easy being a Happy Meal in a Super-Sized world.
Contrary to popular belief, being small is not all it's cracked up to be. My waist size corresponds properly to those in the Juniors department, but being over 30 has added layers of cellulite (and hips! Who knew?) that prevent me for getting a pair of pants in that department over my thighs. I'm too small for the Misses department, which also has the dubious distinction of offering lots of clothes with shoulder pads (which are so 1980s), metallic designs, and beads/mirrors. Yes, the better department stores offer petite sizes but depending on the store, the selections are either not that appealing, or the prices are out of control (when you don't fit--literally--the mainstream market, you have to pay the cost to be the boss).
Case in point: I was online, looking at some lingerie. I did a sort by bra size (yes, I am mammary-challenged) and was a bit dismayed to see my choices reduced from over twenty pages to ONE. From hundreds of bras to just 23.
GRRRRRR...
And, to add insult to injury, none of the bras were under $35. Yes, I know there are places I could get a lot less expensive bras, such as Marshall's and TJ Maxx...but 1) I prefer quality over quantity, and you're not going to find quality bras under $30 and 2) The mammary-challenged don't have much of a selection at discount stores. I know I'm not that big, but the next step down is a training bra, and I am NOT going there!
(for those who would suggest that I get a Wonderbra: the only thing a Wonderbra does for me is make me WONDER why I don't have much cleavage. But I digress.)
And WHY do bras in my size have padding?! I mean regular, everyday bras, not the push-up bras or specialty bras in that vein. If I wanted padding, I would get a Wonderbra, or one of those gel-filled ones. I like my bras rather unadulterated: underwire (sag does not discriminate), some nice trimming, comfort, and keep it moving. I do not want to be buried under layers of Lycra or whatever because a designer (probably male) is feeding into the societal brainwash of bigger breasts are better breasts. This goes back to the whole mother/whore, Oedipal complex type of thing, which is a whole 'nother discussion.
Okay...off to try and find something in my size. Thanks for stopping by.
T.
For those that beg to differ: have you seen clothing stores lately? Being petite is not the hotness. Petite Sophisticate (R.I.P.) closed its doors a few years ago. Cacique, which used to be my favorite lingerie store, made a change and now caters exclusively to full-figured women.
For those of you who have felt shunned by stores in the past, you may not give a whit; in fact, you may be rejoicing at the downfall of the single-digit-sized women. You may be gleeful that the pendulum is finally swinging your way. I, for one, ain't mad at y'all. Take back the...er...dressing rooms. Love your rolls. Do you.
However...this trend in clothing has left me feeling rather bereft as I continue to struggle and find decent clothes. It's not easy being a Happy Meal in a Super-Sized world.
Contrary to popular belief, being small is not all it's cracked up to be. My waist size corresponds properly to those in the Juniors department, but being over 30 has added layers of cellulite (and hips! Who knew?) that prevent me for getting a pair of pants in that department over my thighs. I'm too small for the Misses department, which also has the dubious distinction of offering lots of clothes with shoulder pads (which are so 1980s), metallic designs, and beads/mirrors. Yes, the better department stores offer petite sizes but depending on the store, the selections are either not that appealing, or the prices are out of control (when you don't fit--literally--the mainstream market, you have to pay the cost to be the boss).
Case in point: I was online, looking at some lingerie. I did a sort by bra size (yes, I am mammary-challenged) and was a bit dismayed to see my choices reduced from over twenty pages to ONE. From hundreds of bras to just 23.
GRRRRRR...
And, to add insult to injury, none of the bras were under $35. Yes, I know there are places I could get a lot less expensive bras, such as Marshall's and TJ Maxx...but 1) I prefer quality over quantity, and you're not going to find quality bras under $30 and 2) The mammary-challenged don't have much of a selection at discount stores. I know I'm not that big, but the next step down is a training bra, and I am NOT going there!
(for those who would suggest that I get a Wonderbra: the only thing a Wonderbra does for me is make me WONDER why I don't have much cleavage. But I digress.)
And WHY do bras in my size have padding?! I mean regular, everyday bras, not the push-up bras or specialty bras in that vein. If I wanted padding, I would get a Wonderbra, or one of those gel-filled ones. I like my bras rather unadulterated: underwire (sag does not discriminate), some nice trimming, comfort, and keep it moving. I do not want to be buried under layers of Lycra or whatever because a designer (probably male) is feeding into the societal brainwash of bigger breasts are better breasts. This goes back to the whole mother/whore, Oedipal complex type of thing, which is a whole 'nother discussion.
Okay...off to try and find something in my size. Thanks for stopping by.
T.
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