Inevitably, Obviously.
Honestly, unless self-indulgent whining turns you on? Skip this post. Go read something better. Like astolat 's new fic! It's a companion piece to my favorite AI7 fic of hers, Claused. It, of course, features Kris and Adam, and makes me want to tuck myself up in printed-out copies of this thing. Super, super gorgeous. ETA: behind the cut is a bit of an angry post featuring religion. In case you disregard all my other warnings. But seriously, don't.
Yeah. Not the greatest week, to be honest. I mean, the Dickman brothers were made of awesome and win, and I got to see some Smith friends and hang with my advisors (though, sadly, not all of them. But some of the best ones). But last week was full of shit, despite getting to spend some quality time with my awesome family. Okay, the awesome side of my family. And, sure Friday sucked ass like nobody's business, but today kind of made it worse. 'Cause, see, my kitty died on Friday. We put her to sleep, actually. It was pretty horrible. Not putting her to sleep - honestly, I really think we should have done it sooner. She was hurting so, so much. But we made the appointment on Friday morning, and then I stayed with her all day while my mom went to work.
Nobody else was around to help, and it's a damn good thing. I held her all day, because she lost function in her back legs and was having increasingly violent seizures all day. We ended up canceling our original appointment to move it up, because it was clear this was just torture. Then I got to tell my grandmother via telephone, and my little brother. Loads of fun, especially since my brother decided to displace his emotions in order to deal better, and got very angry with us for not waiting for him. Anyway, I'm not real chill with it yet, and I happened to be dropping off some forms at the school where my mother works today. And the very, very nice secretary who's known me since I was 12 and whom I just adore was, I'll admit, trying to make me feel better about Friday. And she asked me if I believed in God. And I don't like to lie, so I told her, no, I don't, actually. Nonconfrontationally, 'cause that would be a dick move, and I know she takes her religion seriously. Boy, does she ever.
Next thing I know, she tells me I should reconsider because, since she's right, and I'm wrong, I'm going to burn in hell for eternity.
Didn't make me feel much better, to be honest.
And I just want to say: If there is, indeed, a God, He or She is about love, not hate. Otherwise, what the heck's the point? Sodom and Gomorrah are a loong ways away behind us, people, and if Jesus died for our sins, well, we're still in the phase where a hefty bribe to the Church will forgive you your sins better than Confession daily and The Last Rites said over your dying body. Sorry, the "Healing of the Sick", as it's called now that the Church has decided to go all PC. Since hating everyone who isn't them is, y'know, so damn cool.
I've got no problem with people believing. I was a big believer, for a while. Wanted to be a priest when I grew up, and if I do say so myself, I'd be a damn fine one. But, sigh, I am the proud possessor of a vagina, whatcha gonna do? And I think that the idea of religion is brilliant. It's designed to make you feel less alone, and loved all the time. Who doesn't want to be loved? I love the idea of religion, I just can't get myself to believe in an all-powerful being who created everyone and has a plan for everyone and everything. Just...really? It's ridiculous. Science, I can believe in. Religion...not so much. I respect the Catholic mythology, and I'm pretty damn well-versed in it, but that's all I see it as. A collection of morality tales, not so unlike Charlotte Doyle.
She went on to tell me that my cat's incredibly painful month-long process of dying was clearly a test for me. Which I take personal objection to, since that means that her life, in the grand scheme, is worth less than mine. And that's not true. She never hurt anyone; I have hurt many people. I'm not proud of that, but it's a goddamn fact, and that cat was honest to god, a fucking sweetheart. Never even went for the veterinarians with the giant needles.
Okay, this is just turning in to rambling, and is not even productive. I'm turning in.
Yeah. Not the greatest week, to be honest. I mean, the Dickman brothers were made of awesome and win, and I got to see some Smith friends and hang with my advisors (though, sadly, not all of them. But some of the best ones). But last week was full of shit, despite getting to spend some quality time with my awesome family. Okay, the awesome side of my family. And, sure Friday sucked ass like nobody's business, but today kind of made it worse. 'Cause, see, my kitty died on Friday. We put her to sleep, actually. It was pretty horrible. Not putting her to sleep - honestly, I really think we should have done it sooner. She was hurting so, so much. But we made the appointment on Friday morning, and then I stayed with her all day while my mom went to work.
Nobody else was around to help, and it's a damn good thing. I held her all day, because she lost function in her back legs and was having increasingly violent seizures all day. We ended up canceling our original appointment to move it up, because it was clear this was just torture. Then I got to tell my grandmother via telephone, and my little brother. Loads of fun, especially since my brother decided to displace his emotions in order to deal better, and got very angry with us for not waiting for him. Anyway, I'm not real chill with it yet, and I happened to be dropping off some forms at the school where my mother works today. And the very, very nice secretary who's known me since I was 12 and whom I just adore was, I'll admit, trying to make me feel better about Friday. And she asked me if I believed in God. And I don't like to lie, so I told her, no, I don't, actually. Nonconfrontationally, 'cause that would be a dick move, and I know she takes her religion seriously. Boy, does she ever.
Next thing I know, she tells me I should reconsider because, since she's right, and I'm wrong, I'm going to burn in hell for eternity.
Didn't make me feel much better, to be honest.
And I just want to say: If there is, indeed, a God, He or She is about love, not hate. Otherwise, what the heck's the point? Sodom and Gomorrah are a loong ways away behind us, people, and if Jesus died for our sins, well, we're still in the phase where a hefty bribe to the Church will forgive you your sins better than Confession daily and The Last Rites said over your dying body. Sorry, the "Healing of the Sick", as it's called now that the Church has decided to go all PC. Since hating everyone who isn't them is, y'know, so damn cool.
I've got no problem with people believing. I was a big believer, for a while. Wanted to be a priest when I grew up, and if I do say so myself, I'd be a damn fine one. But, sigh, I am the proud possessor of a vagina, whatcha gonna do? And I think that the idea of religion is brilliant. It's designed to make you feel less alone, and loved all the time. Who doesn't want to be loved? I love the idea of religion, I just can't get myself to believe in an all-powerful being who created everyone and has a plan for everyone and everything. Just...really? It's ridiculous. Science, I can believe in. Religion...not so much. I respect the Catholic mythology, and I'm pretty damn well-versed in it, but that's all I see it as. A collection of morality tales, not so unlike Charlotte Doyle.
She went on to tell me that my cat's incredibly painful month-long process of dying was clearly a test for me. Which I take personal objection to, since that means that her life, in the grand scheme, is worth less than mine. And that's not true. She never hurt anyone; I have hurt many people. I'm not proud of that, but it's a goddamn fact, and that cat was honest to god, a fucking sweetheart. Never even went for the veterinarians with the giant needles.
Okay, this is just turning in to rambling, and is not even productive. I'm turning in.