aviy

So once upon a time I knew this girl. Her named was Rachael and she was my best friend by default of the fact that our parents were best friends. She was one of those godblessed children with pretty dark skin and the ability to run everywhere barefoot without ever being hurt. She could do cartwheels better than me, had hordes of friends that I was always jealous of, and her ears curled forward in a weird way that managed to be quite pretty when she eventually hit puberty.

She was two years older than me, a little less, and though I loved her dearly we fell out of contact. Especially after I moved and our mothers didn't see each other as much. Especially after I discovered the joys of the internet, chat rooms, forums and computer games and she found that she her friendly, social ways and attractive looks made her popular. I never begrudged her the distance, as she remained one of the kindest people I'd ever known, we just went out separate ways as it happens when people grow up and find their own interests. I always have and always will remember her fondly as the girl who had dozens of horse dolls and hung her barbies from clothing hangers by their hair, who had fairytale movies I never got sick of watching and boardgames that I never did learn how to play. I'll also always be sad that we didn't stay friends, but in that distant way we feel the regrets that never quite touch us anymore.

This girl got married while she was still just a girl. I honestly can't recall when it was. I believe I was eighteen, but maybe it was sixteen and she was eighteen? Five or thee years ago.

Then I was dazed by the fact that a girl I had grown up with was getting married when I'd still never been kissed. To her highschool sweetheart no less. But I couldn't fault her for a thing, she'd done it all right. She graduated early with all AP classes, she went to a good college and go (was getting?) her degree. She's smart, you see, and likes numbers for some reason so she became an accountant or something similar, a good one. She got a job right out of college and her new husband was... I don't even remember. Was it realty? Well, whatever it was, they were able to get their own home and live comfortably, at least. I never saw it herself. Infact I only met her husband twice, once before the actual marriage and never since. But he seemed like a good guy, they'd been going out for years, and Rachael is a smart kid so I wasn't worried about it.

They moved to Australia last year, finally giving in to one of her husband, Jordan's friends demands that he come help out with a business there. They kept begging him to come, making the offer sweeter and sweeter until they couldn't refuse. So despite how incredibly family oriented Rachael is, they packed their bags and went down under.

I actually didn't really know this much, or didn't register it, the last I remember hearing about it they were still undecided on the move. But it's possible I was told (wasn't Suzie, Rachael's mom, scattered and desperate for company for months because of her daughter's disappearance to the other side of the globe?) I just sometimes fail to register things.

Regardless, yesterday my mother called to tell me that Jordan had died in accident. They don't know the details of what happened, he was biking and his bike was found in some trees at the top of a cliff, his body at the bottom.

I didn't know Jordan. I met him twice. This is the closest a death has ever been to me. Strange because three of my great grandparents have died while I was alive, but all of them and were old and senile at the time (none died younger than 95) and I was young and untouchable. So I feel closer to this, but still not that close. I feel something, but I think it's more awe than sadness, amazed at the movement and happenings of life, regret that this has happened to my friend, but for Jordan himself? Nothing.

Rachael is two years older than me, but her birthday is May 20th. She's in Australia right now, twenty-two and a widow.

And for her I do feel. Rachael never deserved this, but then they rarely do, right? But everything was going for them everything. It's like any girl's dream, right? Marry your highschool sweetheart, get a good job, a good home, be an attractive couple, do what you want to do, live how and where you want to live. But she's twenty months older than me and she's a widow.

Sometimes I wonder why bad things always seem to happen to the people I care about, but who are just distant enough that it never truly effects me, and instead all I get to feel is horrible that I'm so uneffected.

I'll be in Phoenix on Saturday and Sunday, Saturday for a Jewish mourning tradition called "sitting shiva", Sunday for my first funeral.

Some little stuff I forgot:

Mum chopped off my hair a few days ago. I decided it was way too long for this kinda weather, even when I had it in a pony tail it was too heavy to really do any good, so I showed her how long I wanted the ponytail to be and she cut off about five inches. I didn't realize how short that would make it when it was hanging free so now it's just at my shoulders which is the shortest it's ever been. Actually kinda cute, but I need to have it fixed up into a real haircut when I get home.

We were visited by a lady who knows Drex and Jo and she brings out all her wares which are touristy souvenir type stuff. I only bought one necklace which I need her to make longer for me, since all in all I'm not big on that kinda stuff unless it's actually good quality. But mum got a picture and some painted animals. I debated getting one of these neat stone statues of haitian women balancing stuff on their heads, but I don't have anywhere to put it.

So last night we went to a pretty nice restaurant. Not the kind of service I would put up with in the states (I think we spent longer waiting for our check than we did eating our food, and two steaks ordered well came out still mooing) but such a novelty to have HERE that we pretty much just laughed it off.

We met up with two other mission groups there and had a very enjoyable time though. Danny and Theresa, a funny couple with two adorable babies (one their own and one a haitian kid they want to adopt) a Haitian couple that spoke very good english and three Canadians who kept being harassed by Danny, eh? Two of the canadians were pretty regular missionaries, I guess. One of them was going to be staying here for a year and the other is here for a month but goes on missions pretty often. Neither of them are more than a few years older than me.

I've been realizing, lately, surrounded by other christians who are active in their faith, that I'm not really fit for it anymore. It's a little confusing given that I grew up in this environment. But... Hm. It's hard to explain. Like... when someone says something along the lines of "I go where God wants me". This doesn't offend me and I don't scoff at it, but at the same time, possibly due to my closeness to the subject (or knowledge of my distance?) I can't quite just wave it off without thinking about it the way I would with another religion. Or look at it purely from the perspective of "Oh, that's interesting!" the way I would if it were say, a buddist monk who saves his head and zens for five hours every day. And this is nothing LIKE that. "Going where God wants you" Is such a basic part of the religion it kind of goes without saying, and yet... I no longer believe it, I suppose. Maybe it's the fact that it goes without saying and yet it doesn't apply to me that I almost want to say it.

Either way, it doesn't quite make me uncomfortable or anything, but it makes me THINK and realize how far I've come... gone. I'm not sure.

When I was a kid we were told "God has a Master Plan". We were told this constantly, it was one more mantra in between learning the alphabet and how to add and memorizing bible verses and saying out daily pledge. I forgot about it, the way we forget as many of those often repeated things as we remember. I didn't really think about it again until a few years ago when mum mentioned it for... some reason. I don't really remember why, but she said it in a way of "They just need to understand that God has a Plan for them" as if it was a comforting thing, and I realized that... it wasn't. I don't know if I believe in fate or not, but I don't live as if I do, and I prefer to think that it doesn't. For me there is a HUGE difference between "God is all knowing and thus knows how things will turn out" and "God decides how your life will go". The difference is free will, and if you take free will out of the equation Christianity is no longer a religion I can tolerate, because it would give credence to all the claims that "no God who would cause all the pain and suffering in the world could be good or merciful", because if it's Fate, if it's a Plan, than it takes the responsibility away from the sinners. Afterall who are we, weak humans, to struggle against the Plan of an all powerful God?

So... I like to think of God's Master Plan as simply him knowing how things end up, and not driving us all toward that end. Does he show up and effect our lives? Oh, sure, but that's still different than giving us no choice. Even Jonah, who was eaten by a whale, still had a choice. A crappy choice but he had one.

I've never felt any calling of God, as far as I know, though I suppose I thought I had a few times while I was younger. I've had my moment of religious fever, of action brought on by the fear for the immortal souls of my friends, but no particular urge to go here or do this that I can't say was just my conscious, my own self knowledge that would haunt me if I didn't stop and get that homeless man something to eat, that kinda thing.

I'm enjoying the trip, in a way. I mean, it's an experience and I like experiences. The people are nice, the work is hard but for a good cause. I'm sleeping regularly and reading in my spare time, listening to music and thinking about the stories I need to write as soon as I have the time and energy. I can't say I wouldn't rather be home, but I don't regret coming. And I'm really not complaining here... it's an amazing chance and I glad I took it but... realizing where I am with my religion makes me somewhat melancholy. I don't regret that either, I don't think. I'm happy with who I am, but it's not who I ever expected to be. I wonder if I'm faithless or failing, if I'll have any belief left at all in ten years.

When I was younger I couldn't for the life of me understand how people could possibly go through life without being active in at least A religion, that's just how important it was to me. How could you not think about a god every day? Wonder at the beginnings and endings of the universe and your place in it? Now I'm surprised that anyone has the stomach for that type of thing. Surprised I ever did. My mum listens to Christian music and nothing but it every day of the week and doesn't understand why, even if I like some of the songs, I never listen to them willingly. And I can't explain that regardless of my beliefs, I don't want to be reminded of them every day like that, because it inevitably leads to thoughts like these and I couldn't stand to do it constantly.

I'm not built for missions, I've realized. I guess that makes me selfish or whatever. But... I do like helping people. I like giving money to the homeless or buying them food, I like donating to organizations and giving what I have to give to charities. I like buying presents for people who don't need them, like my friends and family, and not worrying about the money involved because it doesn't mean that much to me. I like doing good things but... I don't like living it, I support. I like retiring to my bed at the end of the day, and seeing my friends. I would rather travel to europe and japan than haiti again. I can't imagine spending a year away from my comfortable home doing god's work. And when you get right down to it? I don't even feel like I'm doing that here. I know we are, and I know everyone else feels that way. But I suppose my heart isn't really into it. I feel like a better christian when I buy someone a sandwich than when I fly halfway across the world and build orphanages. Perhaps because I know I'm really just tagging along on my mother's holy quest.

It's clouded today, so hopefully my sunburn won't get any worse, and maybe it'll even rain, that'd be nice.

Right so, add to that list down there the intention to start being more organized with my LJ. I have an excellent memory compared to..uh... 90% of the people I know, and can usually dig through it to remember when I wrote something within a couple of months. But still, for the purposes of digging back through my journal (which I do fairly frequently) I should really have it more organized. One day when I'm truly bored I will go keyword everything.

Anyway, it's been a while since I used to update this with just... my thoughts on whatever I had thoughts on. Now that I'm not talking to people about these thoughts very much anymore, I suppose I need to journal them again.

So I was listening to a song about date rape on the radio.

I don't really consider myself squeemish about rape. I make jokes about it, I use the word for slang. I can read stories and watch movies which contain rape. I could probably even write it if I had to. But at the same time I am a woman, and I think anyone with a vagina has a muscle curled up in the region of their stomach that just automatically turns to lead at the idea of rape. I kind of doubt men seriously get this reaction. Because a strang woman walking up to a man shoving him against a wall and taking off his clothes has entirely different connotations than a strange man doing the exact same thing to a woman.

Anyway, this isn't really a post about rape, that's just where the thought started.

I remembered a post Ruu linked to once about a girl who was defriending anyone she saw use the word rape as slang.

More recently this reminds me of someone I know going into a brief (but harmless) rant about how it disgusts them when people use the word retarded for anything but it's clinical meaning.

And more generally, the fact that I have a mother who for years wouldn't let me swear and refuses to believe that curses are harmless unless used in a harmful manner.

And this is ultimately why I don't put any power in 'bad' words. "Motherfucker" used to disturb me on some level, but by now I'm desensatized even to that, and I'll swear it at my computer if I'm in a crappy mood and it's lagging ingame or some such. I used to hate the word 'pussy' when used in just about any way and now I mostly just find it funny. I can't say it with a straight face, but I accept that it's a common slang word.

I personally think it's silly when people give a single word more power than any other word. I mean... the person who hates to see the word 'retard' used in slang has nice and apparently selfless reasoning behind it. It's insulting to those tragically mentally challenged children. Similarly, rape IS infact a terrible, horrible thing, and how dare we mock what has happened to the victims by joking about the experience, by claiming to be 'raped' by an opposing team in a game?

But then if we accept that reasoning my mother is entirely correct in the fact that one shouldn't swear at all. I mean, retard isn't even a curse, it's a word for the mentally challenged we're supposed to avoid on the idea that the mentally challenged are somehow more pitiful than the rest of humanity and thereby deserve to be treated with more respect.

So no one asked my opinion, but isn't the old rhyme, "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me"? You think of that as a children's thing that we teach them to say so they'll stop crying every damn time someone calls them a stupidhead. But seriously, what is the point in getting offended about a word that wasn't meant to be offensive? If someone honestly calls you a bitch, tells you to go to hell. Well bitch and hell aren't really THAT bad a words, but if someone means it? Then god yes you have every fucking right to be pissed off. But if someone isn't even talking to you then why are you finding offense in their slang? You aren't righteous for defending the raped or the retarded, because no one is insulting them but the ones who keep bringing them into the issue. It's just a word not even directed at you, stop letting it have power over you.

This rant honestly wasn't directed at anyone, I'm not actually even ranting >D Just... a thought process.

Though I'm reminded of back when I was in highschool, during one of the VERY brief spurts that I was interacting with humanity I made the brief mistake of refering to black people as 'black' and was immediately (if reasonably politely) corrected to say 'brown'. It didn't really bother me at the time, but what the hell? It's not even that they took offense to the word black and were being all PC. No, saying 'brown' had just become the cool, hippy thing to do in that group. If they were trying to be PC they'd demand African-American or whatever but no... we just had quite a few black (and mex) people in that group and they called themselves brown with pride and apparently not doing the same was a no-no. If I could go back in time I would demand they call me beige on principle.

Yes, I am notoriously un-PC, whut D=

Saying I'm not PC always amuses the crap out of me because when I first met Ruu she accused me of being PC a lot because I always bugged her to draw more girls. THE TRUTH IS DEAR I JUST LIKE TO SEE YOU BRANCH OUT

Okay I gotta go finish presents it's 3 o'clock on christmas eve lollorz