And on the Ninth Day There Was Broadband
Okay. I am scheduled within the next two weeks to have my computer graced with the Internet once more. *heavenly choir* Until then I can use my mother's without the corporate lock --but sorry Nekarai-chan, still no Messenger. I still don't have access to my files (artwork I'll be putting up in DeviantArt from this last semester and poetry from the March river trip,) but I'll get them soon. Unfortunately since this computer is a company-owned one I still can't see all of the things that make life worthwhile... like a scantily clad Patrica Velasquez. Yes, it's true. I do have a remote chance with Anuk Su Namun ...the actress likes Ma'ats as much as she likes Thoths.
I'm turning into a dirty old man, even though I'm a woman and only twenty-five. *sigh* It's kind of fun, I'll admit.
Switching gears. Lately I've been trying to hang on to my temper, bitter with the over-pious majority around where I live. I hear so many people in the course of a week nodding about how good they are, to know that they are sinners and yet walking the "right" path to salvation. I want to growl at them to remember the story of the Progidal Son, tell them the original translation of the Hebrew that was mangled in their King James versions. The fact that ghosts are mentioned would give the Seventh Day Adventists the screaming horrors. To them ghosts are only agents of The Debbil. I find myself wanting to bullet out those opinions --I'm brutal at verbal sparring-- but would just swallow them and tremble with hate, with rage. Then I read this wonderful entry by Waiter in his blog. The anger I feel is still there, but after reading that I also feel sorrow for those self-righteous people I see every week. I feel pity for them that for all of the head nodding and insular support they cannot see how large the world is just outside of their sanctified circle.
I'm glad I'm still a pilgrim.
I'm turning into a dirty old man, even though I'm a woman and only twenty-five. *sigh* It's kind of fun, I'll admit.
Switching gears. Lately I've been trying to hang on to my temper, bitter with the over-pious majority around where I live. I hear so many people in the course of a week nodding about how good they are, to know that they are sinners and yet walking the "right" path to salvation. I want to growl at them to remember the story of the Progidal Son, tell them the original translation of the Hebrew that was mangled in their King James versions. The fact that ghosts are mentioned would give the Seventh Day Adventists the screaming horrors. To them ghosts are only agents of The Debbil. I find myself wanting to bullet out those opinions --I'm brutal at verbal sparring-- but would just swallow them and tremble with hate, with rage. Then I read this wonderful entry by Waiter in his blog. The anger I feel is still there, but after reading that I also feel sorrow for those self-righteous people I see every week. I feel pity for them that for all of the head nodding and insular support they cannot see how large the world is just outside of their sanctified circle.
I'm glad I'm still a pilgrim.