The Not Happy Thread

One more time- dentist’s office: round three.

 

Growing up Mormon, church lasted three hours, and then there were meetings outside of the meetings. They've switched things up now, according to my mother (I no longer attend), so it's only two hours, but there's still a lot of stuff around those two hours.

 

In boot camp, the LDS privates got to take a bus off base to the nearest Mormon church (temple?) every Sunday. I'm sure they had to sit at attention the whole time, but still, off base once a week... wow!

 

If you're going to hell anyway, why go to church at all? Do something fun on Sunday mornings instead.

 

They brought it on base now, they're having none of that bussing shit nowadays. Just straight "go fucking pray that I don't miss your clip for the hell hole, you God damn shower shoe!" Then you go for an hour or two in formation,or you stay back and work on stuff you're behind on. Proceed back to dying throughout the day after about 2pm on Sundays. For basically four terrible months...

 

I remember polishing boots and reading the paper in the morning after chow (Catholic services were first, I went to the Protestant ones in accordance with the first illegal order I ever received "There will be 100% religious service attendance!"), then an hour of writing letters while the holy man did his business with his god, then lunch, then doing laundry on those big long concrete sinks, followed by field day and maybe some COD?

Gotta admit, there are times that I miss the sound of a drill instructor taking a platoon through its paces on the parade deck near sunset.

 

Had to pull my offer from a house I got attached to

 

Take it as a learning experience. I am not religious. I don't claim a religion, but I was raised Catholic, so I like to say that I am a non practicing Catholic. Anyways, I find a lot of contradictory in church doctrines so I stopped going. I did, However,go back 2 years ago to a non denominational church but again, the pastor's teachings didn't sit well with me. In college, I found it fascinating. Like, reading the Bible not as a "guide" but as a work of literature, and looking at ways people respond to it over time. This also opened me up to look at other religions and other types of church services.
Be with your family and observe these religious traditions like a scholar would

 

In Sixth Form, I had to go to church every couple of Sundays, despite not being religious. I always remembered that you're only being asked to listen and to say the right words - no-one's going to make you believe them.

Also, IME, no-one notices when you don't say the words either.

 

i went to a catholic high school and we had mandatory mass every month during school and optional small chapel prayers every week before school. i went up for holy communion (because, as I've said, I was raised in the religion and its habit; i was just following the motions). A classmate noticed and caused a big stink saying "you are offending everyone here! you dont even believe in what we're doing and here you are! you shouldnt even be here!"

 

Because then how will you know you're going to hell for the fun things you've done every other day of the week.

 

There was some sect or other that interpreted confession of sins (I don't remember if it was a Catholic heresy or what) to imply that the more sins you had to confess for, the holier you would be. I heard that Saturday evenings were particularly...spiritual...

 

It's one of these days again. Feeling utterly decadent. I woke up alone with a splitting headache, staring at the wrong ceiling. Okaaaay... I was at my friend's place. What a pigsty. Garbage everywhere. Overfilled ashtrays, empty beer cans, broken flush and not a glass in sight. I gotta get out of this place. Shit! What time is it? My mobile phone's dead. Did I take my charger? Of course not, because this was not supposed to happen. It started with an innocent drink and ended up with a bruised knee and a k.o. Malisky: 0 - Alcohol: 1000. I look outside and try to estimate the time by the sun's position but the sky's filled with clouds. Looks like it's somewhere between 3 and 5? I drink some water from the sink and off I go! As I'm locking the door there's an old lady with a perplexed look at the hall staring at me. I smile at her politely thinking, "I know I look like crap, lady. No need to magnify things." She looks like the kind of lady that if I were to slip and fall down the flight of stairs, she would be standing over me, kicking my dead body.

Anyhow, where was I? Right. Outside it's cold af and I got a headache, a stomachache, a hurt knee and a severely damaged nervous system, so I drop by a mini market and buy a bottle of juice. I drink some. Splendit. Now I got nausea too.

I reach the train station. It's 5:20, which means class started 20 minutes ago. It's 4 stops to school, which means I can't make it there in less than 15 minutes. The door is going to be locked by then (this mofo of a professor locks you outside if you're late for class) and I'll have to wait for about an hour 'til recess. Shit. I made a promise to myself that I'd stop getting hammered and that I wouldn't lose another class this semester and look at me now. Pathetic. Oh, but wait. The cat! I have to pick her up! I took her yesterday to the vet to get her sterilized and she told me to pick her up today. The vet is in my neighborhood which means 11 stops towards the opposite direction. Both trains arrive at the same time and for some seconds my mind goes blank. I can't decide. Which direction should I go... Fuck it.

I choose the cat! I already feel guilty for getting her sterilized (don't start with this, please) and leaving her there for a whole day. It's got to be her. I get in the wagon just before the doors shut with a loud thud. Even the doors look mad at me. If there wasn't an empty sit waiting for me, I swear I would lie like a corpse on the floor until the destination was reached. On the way I couldn't stop my mind from accusing me upon everything. I'm an idiot, I'm ugly, I'm lazy, I'm cruel, I'm uncharismatic, I'm weak. I'm the whole package of uselessness. I wonder how can anybody like a person like me. Maybe nobody does. Maybe we are all just lonely. But I know what's happening here. It's the fall from the high. It's a mixture of exhaustion and alcohol poisoning. Been there so many times that nowadays I can real-time monitor these emotions from a distance. I disassociate. Every self loathing accusation takes human form just like the personification of a sin, but these clingy figures can't smother me anymore. It's like a staring contest. They stare at me and I stare them back. They seek acceptance, but god, these fuckers are hard to accept. I'd rather change. I'd rather never have to stare at them again. I'd rather be perfect. How do people manage to stay motivated while carrying all these demons inside?

After writing all of this here, I already feel better. Good thread to decompress. I think a little earthquake just happened.

 

A miniature journey, that.

 

That's some nice description there. Sucks you felt that way, but well done on the keyboard.

 

Urban Fiction is a distinct genre different from "African American Fiction" (which is another pet peeve of mine, but that's for another time) that deals primarily with drugs, sex, and gangs and can be African American, Latino, or WHITE (same with Motorcycle gang fiction it's its own distinct genre).

...once again, I am having to pull the books written by black authors OUT of the "Urban Fiction" section where they are placed solely because they are black authors NOT because of themes. One is a science fiction novella about a man who gets transported into the future. Because its written by a black guy, its put with the "urban" drugs, sex, and gangs section typically associated with black people. Another book is historical fiction about a black housekeeper in the 1940s. This was also put in Urban. Another book, written by a Nigerian author, is a mystery novel about international law enforcement trying to catch a baby killer....THIS IS PUT IN URBAN!

I'm so fed up with this!!!!

(i'm mad because i am the person who orders these books. Another department determines where to put them, DESPITE my giving them the ALA definition of Urban Fiction and telling them that I have discontinued the African American section)

(this is another reason why i have anxiety about possibly getting something published because no matter what i write, the fact that I am black will automatically designate me to the "Urban" or "African american" section/shelf!)

 

If it makes you feel better, I don't think I've seen an "African American" section outside of the US, and "Urban Fiction" as a genre worthy of having it's own shelf, rarely. I do kind of understand what you mean, though. I'm very hesitant of being open about my non-heteronormative traits because I really don't want to get railroaded as an LGBTQ+ author.

 

Sorry, not sorry kind of, for whining at something inane. I'm sick and tired of being sick and tired. I've tried like six different medicines and I still have an endless tide of sneezing and what not that's sugar coated in a burning throat. Top it off with me having a military reserve muster in an hour, and the three hundred god damn pages of documentation I needed to print off for this damn muster, not to mention typing my life story in 5" by 4" box at 4 point font for one of the official records. And I'm eating leftover food...

Now im just getting petty.

Okay I'm done, enjoy your day!

 

Should have sent out antithesis cards.

 

In Tower Records Japan (still exists over here) they solved the Hip Hop/Rap/R&B labeling dilemma by just putting a big sign (in English) in one section of the store: BLACK MUSIC.

Don't remember if Eminem made the grade or not...

 

So, is country under WHITE MUSIC?

Edit: wait, where does Jazz fall under?