Wednesday, February 24, 2016

Hello, Mama. Welcome to my Blog

Sure, I'm fairly certain you've been reading it for many moons. After all, it's the easy way out. The privacy of your curtained living room, able to react to your non-existent sky fairy, hoping beyond hope, your empty words' vibrations you spew into the room's abyss will get past the single-paned glass windows, floating up into the atmosphere, breaking through the (impervious to me) barrier of the supernatural, and into the ears of God.

Just think, this God has been getting your prayers for god damned near five years now. Or maybe well before that.

He's probably tried a few things, in his utter impotency. He got me sick one day for months. I beat that back with my sheer will - and water and apple cider vinegar as placebos. He sent me marital fire, but I learned that I needed to become a better me and our marriage is intact. I still love my bride very much, if not differently than before. He even crashed four of our cars. No injuries or death. I didn't even kill the little girl in the back seat of that Honda CRV, totaling that car with my E-350 Ford van.

Hell, he tried to break me with debt. I refinanced. Job. I got one where I make more money. Health care costs. Remember new job? Rebellious kids. Or so I thought...then I learned that they were kids.!

Mama, THAT is a constant battle in my mind, since you fucked me up so much. You taught me about a god who desired, nay, DEMANDED perfection. You taught me about a god that required us to "redeem the time for the days are evil." That means that I have no capacity to sit down and relax. It is ingrained in me to make sure that I am always busy and productive. And that means that nobody else can be anything but, as well. That premise of life is the single largest issue my kids have with their daddy.

I'm just not that much fun. Work is king. A clean house is my chiefest of concerns. Fuck my children. They'll come around and see it my way. All I need to do is yell louder, humiliate them more, but god dammit, I don't beat them like you did me and my siblings! So it's all good, right?! Right, Mama?!

Yeah...ask my kids. No don't. Stay the fuck away from them. I want nothing of your poisonous religion in their lives. I've already fucked them up enough.

And yet they still hug me. Why? Because, when I affect them in a bad way, it fucking hurts me. And I know I'm not right all the time. I'm just as pliable and potentially wrong as they are. My experiences in life mean nothing if I cause those I love to weep, despise me, or chew me out in anger.

And so I work my ass off to become a better me. Sure, I fail often, but I'm honest about it and blame it on ME, and not some fucked up God that fucks us up, just so he can love us down the road. And I don't blame it on a devil, who, in the Bible, was so much more gracious and loving than the asshole god within those pages.

So yeah..welcome. Enjoy the ride. I'm glad to have you here.

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