Auburn rules the internet . We have all the tech savy. Alabama has more hayseeds that pulle [sic] for them than Auburn does!
That would be what my dad said in response to the granddaughter of one of his paternal uncles. She’s an Alabama fan, while he is (obviously) an Auburn fan. She’s almost 21. He’s almost 56. This is him happy. This is him excited. This is him pleased that Auburn has won. This is what he is like when he is practically squealing for glee.
I pretty much decided something this week. I had been leaning toward doing this for a while. I decided that I’m not Mormon. I’ve never been Mormon. Yeah, I joined the church. (Well, I got baptized & confirmed, but I still have no access to the website account.) I even had home teachers that were decent early on. I have friends who are Mormon, but I also have friends who are Buddhists, Baptists, Wiccan, etc. Having friends in a religion doesn’t make it so. Have faith in the religion makes it so. I don’t have faith in the church. I haven’t for a while. When I joined, I thought I felt drawn to the church. I didn’t feel that way long and I don’t feel that way now. When people would talk about their testimonies, I wouldn’t feel great. I would feel awkward. I would feel scared. When I was confirmed, I wasn’t excited. I didn’t understand why I was suddenly going to get the gift of the Holy Spirit, when I’m fairly certain that I already had a still small voice. I hated going to conferences, but I went. I wanted to belong, and I think that’s why I tried so hard. Shortly after I got sick, (actually before then) I realized I never truly belonged. I was a church-goer, but I was not a member. I would never be a member. I could jump through hoops, but I would still be an outsider. I wasn’t born into the church and I was too sick to actually attend services, so I was no longer considered one of them. After being dropped by some of my friends, whether it was for being politically left or absent from religious activities, it reminded me of my lack of priority. I was a black sheep. Worse. I was a ginger. And, as one of those dropped friends had on their site, gingers have no souls. I was the girl who wanted someone to explain why it was okay for a person to make racist comments and appear in black face at a dance (shortly before the ’08 elections), yet it wasn’t okay for me to make comments about homosexuality being inborn. Surely, if that was tolerable, then my beliefs were acceptable.
My first step in the direction of distancing myself from the church: a venti de-caf caramel frappuccino. I never wanted to give them up, but I did. I did because it was wrong and because it was naughty. I did it because I wanted to belong. I finally realized this. I didn’t want people to think badly of me. I didn’t friend people from my ward or YSA on Twitter until recently because I didn’t want them to know the real me. I didn’t want them to know the girl who occasionally drops the f-bomb. I didn’t want them to know the girl who has ranted about the too-far-right direction that so many powerful idiots (Glenn Beck, Sarah Palin) have taken to promoting. I didn’t mind if people who I went to school with knew this girl. I didn’t mind if people I disagree with regularly, but still respect on the internet knew this girl. I didn’t want my church to know that I was a “bad person”. But I’m not. I’m a good person. I’m a damn good person. I’m not better or worse than anyone else on this planet. I am me. And I’ve always liked me. I don’t want to show some level of shame about myself when I have nothing to feel ashamed of.