Just Prattling on About God Stuff

Today was a bad "faith" day. IN that, I mean to say, the day has left me with an ill feeling in my stomach (or is that from the BBQ potato chips I just inhaled?) concerning my faith.

I talked with my Hinduism professor today (who I have grown to like greatly) about how, even though there's no idea of "conversion" in the Hindu faith, whether or not a non-South Asian person can freely enter a "congregation" of Hindus. She responded by saying that Hinduism is really more about blood than belief, and that mose South Asians wouldn't accept an Anglo as a spiritual peer simply because of their ethnicity. that really disturbs me, in part because it unfounded my own Christian belief system, which dictates that religion is based on beliefs, tenets, and most crucially, faith.

I don't have a yen to commit myself to Hinduism--while I find it fascinating, and see a great sense of universality in their teachings that would allow me to effortlessly "convert" to their faith, I'm still wrestling with my own heretically-received God (thank you Gerard Manley Hopkins for the analogy). While on the back porch this evening, I, for the first time, admitted to myself that my faith isn't as strong as I'd like to think. This is a very hard admission to myself, because faith has always been an integral factor in my life, and even though I'm sure I've said these words before to people, I don't think I ever really believed them.

Perhaps, then, no faith is really about beliefs. Christianity, Judaism, Islam, Hinduism--these are all human-constructed ideas of morality that civilizations were constructed upon, and are passed on from parent to child. (Christianity, of course, doesn't fit this description so perfectly, since the main goal of the Christian church has always been prosletyzing to "unbelievers.") Where does biology stop and faith begin?

Damn you, Tracy.

The Gods are Making Me Crazy

If the weather weren't so amazing, I might actually be doing something I NEED to do. But, instead of writing my two papers and reading the 1,000+ pages of material I need to have completed for Tuesday, I've been playing with the dog outdoors for the past hour.

My car was struck Friday night. MY ENTIRE FAMILY came down to celebrate my mother's birthday that night, and I was about to pull out of a parallel spot (WITH ALL OF THEM IN THE CAR) when I was struck by an SUV. Instead of hitting me and stopping, he decided to continue dragging his car through my car ("I thought it was a bump in the road," he later said) until the entire right side of his car had been horribly damaged. All while going less than four miles an hour, might I add. It's not as if he couldn't have stopped immediately upon ramming into my car. So, everything is fucked, and I owe even MORE money. Cars and me were not meant to be. Esp. in Chicago.

I went on a "field trip" to the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago this morning, for my Hindu class. It was so incredibly beautiful, and everything--from the offerings to the icons to the millions of flower arrangements everywhere to the icons' outfits to the buildings themselves--seemed so much more expensive than in Christian churches. For an incredibly impovershed country (it's like this in all temples, in India and abroad--the level of ornateness), India sure does love its religion. I took some pictures of the exterior of the building (I don't think I was supposed to, but...oh well) and will TRY to post them sometime this week.

In addition to the thousands of dollars I owe on my car (I got booted a few weeks ago; I don't think that was mentioned here) and the horrible stress school is giving me, my very best friend is angry with me. How does this happen?

I'm going to go wash off the yellow stuff on my forehead, and...yeah, probably play with the dog some more. Dammit.

Cooking With Chestnuts

The beginning of finals season has taken its toll on me, sendingme into a period of passivity, frustration, lethargy, and the like. I've fallen behind on the readings in almost all of my classes--and I've been so good about that this semester!--and this weekend will not allow me the time needed to catch up. Not only has the temptress of spring weather made designs on my weekend, but I'm traveling to Lemont on Sunday to visit the Hindu Temple of Greater Chicago for my Hinduism class. I have papers, at least 1,000 words to write, and a teensy shift at Gap.

I'm shopping for a new job right now (aren't I always?). I'm thinking about Borders--while I'd rather not support their monopoly on the bookselling business, all the "ma-and-pa" bookstores in the area are run by one or two people, or are highly coveted positions that are full-time (a la Unabridged). Oh, or "bookstore" means "porn shop," in which case, I morally object to it.

Good things, good things...I saw the first movie in the theaters since December this week--Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind. I'm really not a fan of Kaufman's previous two films, but I fell in love with the concept of this film even before I screened it. Now, after seeing this beautiful, smart film, I no longer HATE Jim Carrey and Kate Winslet. I just have no feeling for them whatsoever. Which is an improvement. (Improvment?) (Why can't I spell.)

Oh, and I finally had a chance to listen to "David Sedaris Live at Carnegie Hall" this week--a gift from Tim for my birthday--and have re-fallen in love with the man. When I first bulleted through his three books a few years ago, I set my heart on one day becoming a prose essayist like him. (I've since abandoned the aspiration, chalking it up to another literary trend that will surely fade in time. Have you seen all of the bourgeois collections of women shopping-and-men stories out there?) Strangely enough, one of his pieces from his upcoming collection discusses the morality of writing about personal experiences, and how his family and friends react to him writing about their intimate anecdotes. I'd just like to add that, from now on, if anyone's going to add my personal experiences into a Souffle of Trite Tripe, asking permission or something would be greatly appreciated. I thought there was an understanding within the writing community that a level of professionalism and courtesy was to be upheld at all times. If you don't know what I'm taking about...don't ask, because I'm still stewing about it.

Otherwise, I've got nothing.

I just want to make sure everyone understands that my away messages are generally not autobiographical. Theo and I have not broken up; Ani is not singing about the "bubble" that is Theo and I. Ok?

I am just in a shit shit shitty mood. My father is so angry with me right now, and I have to go take care of some expensive fucking things.