"Its just another view point"

Did a Historical Jesus Exist?

http://www.nobeliefs.com/exist.htm

After reading this article, I truly do not understand how people could have such blind faith. Even people of faith are quoted as knowing that the whole religion cannot necessarily have happened. I think the biggest thing I read was the comment about a fictional book written in the 1920's about Pontius Pilot's letters to Seneca in Rome, and how maybe in a hundred years that will be considered as truth and worshipped. I almost feel like if we go by the standards of the people following the bible, fictional stories from our modern times could be worshipped in hundreds of years. 

The article also mentions Hercules, and how similar the stories are between him and Jesus. I don't understand how people could find that story fictional and know it, when the story of Jesus is incredibly similar and now factual?

I just can't stop thinking about the girl at SCCC who thinks the bible actually happened. The article mentions parts of the bible (mind you written 60 years after the death of Jesus meaning the unknown authors who wrote this could not have lived during Jesus' lifetime) writing about what Jesus was thinking. How would you know what was inside his head if you didn't even meet him!?

Its so crazy how some beliefs are thought to be so farfetched, like people who believe in UFO's or Big Foot, when there is about as much factual evidence proving UFO existence as Jesus'!

It just reminds me of when I was a kid and first started going to CCD. All my life, I was told story tales teaching good morals or trying to teach you lessons. I remember my favorite book in the world was Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs, a book about a town where food fell out of the sky. You're taught when you're young that none of it is true, that the only true myths are Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. But then I started CCD and suddenly this incredibly farfetched fairy tale was true and I was supposed to be incredibly faithful to it. I knew even then that it was bullshit; I really always have. I don't think I can ever understand the mentality of someone who spends their life waiting for the afterlife. You're alive now, why do you have to secure what happens when you do die? I've come too close to dying to waste my life praying for a paradise. 

Freaked and Frustrated

So when I got home tonight, my dad freaked out that if he had a gun by his bed, he would accidently shoot someone because we scare him while he's sleeping. Becki said one night, she left her room to find him coming down the hallway with a baseball bat saying he dreamt there was a intruder in the house and was just making sure. I am now officially too afraid to leave my room at night.

At yoga tonight the music reminded me not too subtly of the music in the Twilight Zone. I forgot how much I loved that show, and never realized what an ominous tone its cheesy score would cast over everyday life.

I was just reading a blog posted by a SCCC student and I cannot believe some people. I don't care what your religious ideals are, but when you are handing out bibles in the school cafeteria, I feel that's crossing a line. Okay, hand them out to people who chose to take them, don't badger everyone who walks past and then silently pray for them so they don't go to hell when they refuse your offer. How can you make the Theory of Evolution equatable to the talking snake in the story of Adam and Eve? Good thing science kind of leans away from your theory. I don't understand how people look so down on those who get sucked into cults, thinking they're absolutely crazy or ridiculous enough to believe some of the cult attitudes, when so many Christians are just as sucked into their beliefs and think nothing of it, or worse yet think they're better then the rest of the world because they are the saved people. 

A section in Cody's book Hardcore Zen struck me as particularly interesting. It was talking about how no matter where you are, there is no such thing as a paradise. So even if you live in a gorgeous place, have the dream job, and are incredibly happy,  eventually its just a regular job or life you have to drag yourself to. There's no paradise, there's no Utopia waiting for you after you die, and thinking their is may be a hopeful thought, but its also wasting the time you could be spending enjoying what's here on Earth. If you're constantly seeking and waiting for the afterlife, what's the point of living anymore? 

Next, many stories in the bible are found to be variations of stories told in other religions. The story of Noah finds its roots in the Mesopotamian story of Giglimesh, so to think that the bible is a literal account of the things that took place is farfetched. The bible is a series of stories to help teach you how to become a better person in "God's" eyes, not a word-for-word retelling of what happened. I'm not even Christian and I realize that, ugh. 

Sussex County infuriates me; you would think living in New Jersey and not the bible belt would make life more bearable, but I guess EBF New Jersey is where you find the conservative minority of our states inhabitants. 

Hunger

I don't think I've ever been as hungry as I was when I got home from Social Welfare Policy tonight. I haven't had a public presentation in so long, I forgot how much it takes out of you. Despite my inner freaking out, and the awkward shuffle I know I tend to do when I'm nervous, I was told I'm a great public speaker so I suppose I should stop being so worried. Even far older people in my class were completely stressed about the presentation, so I guess I can't feel so bad about that either.

Now that I realized I'm nearing the end of my time at SCCC forever, I'm realizing how much I hate my classes. Theories of Personality is the only one I enjoy anymore, and my English Comp II class is literally a joke. I can't wait to fill out end of the year reviews for this professor; and I hope some sort of administrative figure reads them. 

Posi

Lately I've been trying so hard to stay positive, but as I come to realize I'm leaving in the fall, I'm noticing my temper is going straight to hell with my entire family. I don't mean to, my mom and dad definitely don't deserve it. My sister, on the other hand, oh my god. I guess when I was going through my teenage shit, I was as selfish and terrible as she is, but I am very much so on the edge of freaking out. I don't deserve to deal with her bullshit, and neither does the rest of my family. You're in 8th grade, your life is not going to end if you don't have a boyfriend. I don't care what in your life is so important, you don't have to treat the world like shit.

I want to stay positive. This semester is ending very soon, After Wednesday, I have nothing else major due until take home finals start getting handed out. And then once I'm done, I'm done with SCCC forever. I could not be happier, honestly. Cody is amazing, school is so close to being done, and its almost summer. Warped tour is going to be great, and I'm so hoping I can catch This is Hardcore and spend three days alone with Cody. But even through all this good coming up, I still can't help but want to scream.

I don't understand why public speaking still scares me so much. I'm friends with a lot of the people in this class and have comfortably sat with them until the class started, but for some reason I know I'll have a problem falling asleep tonight because I am dreading doing my oral presentation tomorrow (night, mind you). I would think by now I would have overcome this stupid phobia; I'm glad at least I volunteered to go pretty early in the list so I won't stress for too long. 

Acceptance

I got my acceptance letter from Stockton today, and am very glad I didn't have to wait the 6-8 weeks they claimed to find out if I was accepted or not. I realized that I have no emotions though. Mom called me, pretty much crying because she was so excited, and I was just like "yay." Inside I was freaking out, but on the surface I had nothing. Cody really is the only one I can express anything to really. But because I was at work there was nothing.

On another note, I feel kind of shitty for getting accepted. Or applying now at all. I wish Cody could have sent in his application too. Now for the next couple months I'll be freaking out hoping he gets accepted too. I don't know what I'd do if things didn't work out. I really don't.

Open Mic Night

This was what I obtained from the open mic night tonight. It would be nice to say that the writing scene has changed/gone downhill since I graduated, but then I realized that it has always been downhill. We're now just missing a few pseudo-intellectual/political kids, but the incoming freshmen more then make up for it. I don't understand why I continue going to these things. I guess the few rough messes I sprawled down make it worth the couple hours (although Dani and Alissa helped much). I know I've said it before, but its really the entire creative writing scene that made me lose my passion for writing in the first place. Even tonight, I could not take the competition. I might just be exaggerating, or looking at things funny, but from where I sit you can never really add up to the five dollar words that the "future published authors" spew out. I much prefer keeping writing separate from the popularity pull. I'm so glad I'm out of high school.

As I sat scribbling tonight I realized how much I want to buy some canvas and spray paint the shit out of it. Everyone commented tonight that my handwriting looks like I'm some crazy artist, and I really wish I was. But since I am utterly lacking in the artistic department, I want to try to solidify my handwriting so its something readable but still looking like what I want it to. I think that's definitely going on the top of my "to do" list.

Return

I have plans tomorrow to go a High Point Regional open mic night. I'm not sure what to think of this. On one hand, it might be nice seeing Strout and Hodge, but who am I kidding. I realize that the kids at that open mic are the reason I stopped writing. I know that labeling yourself as a 'writer' at High Point Regional High School made you a pseudo-intellectual fighting to be the next great poet. I know that constant judgement, big headed-ness, and competition made me stop having a passion for something I loved so much, a passion I have not found again to this day. I know that going back there might stop my return to writing as I know it, but yet I know I'll go anyway. I hope I don't get stared down (again).

One of the recent poems I wrote got turned into lyrics of a metal song. I'm not sure how to think of that either. I listen to the song, not recognizing the words through the screams and then a clean part breaks and there it is, my words. Its a very strange feeling. I'm not sure whether I love the poem more, or whether I want to tear it down and throw it away. Its almost like as soon as I hear the words I hate them and am embarrassed by them, even though technically now they don't belong to me anymore. I think I like it though. I like knowing that's my poem hidden under the music. 

Trash Talk

This could have quite possibly been one of the best shows I've ever been to, which I know I've repeated on three other freaking websites but I don't care at this point. I've been so stressed lately that it was just great to release everything and not feel so lame at the same time by sitting on the stage and being like every other girl. It felt so good not only to release everything I've had pent up, but be the only girl who had the balls to do it. I loved the feeling of jumping past the girls in dresses and snotty faces to get into the pile on, and the looks of surprise by everyone around me when I walk out sweaty and smiling. I'm going to have to do this again very soon.

Knighted

I was knighted tonight by Cody. I guess this means I'm officially straight edge? I wasn't aware there was an official ceremony, but I'll take it.

I just got word of a couple kids being caught and charges pressed for trespassing at Plastoids. Its so upsetting realizing that I'll probably never visit there again now knowing they are starting hourly searches of the premises. Its strange to think that a dilapidated could mean so much, but its true. I just wish I could have left my mark on the wall. Its a shame that I already bought the spray paint.

Cody, you're my rock. Thank you.

Some Thoughts

I just refound my creative writing blog and am thrown into so many emotions I have long since forgotten.

I was talking to an old friend last night. Its funny how after all these years, some things still ring similar. Its almost as if no matter how far you float, the world is still so small.

I think after reading all this old poetry, I want to start writing again. I miss having that expression and I'm sick of going through my days with no creative release. Even photography doesn't do it anymore; for some reason I'd rather crawl through the ruins then capture them.

Its getting warm again and hopefully that means the outdoors will at least save me from this house. I'm so pent up from a long winter that I curse every April day when its pouring.

I really want to start getting into graffiti, even if its just jumbled words on some wall that I doubt anyone else will see. Maybe I'll start buying canvases, taking away the fun of the illegality, but making it more easily assessable so I'm not so constantly frustrated with no release.

I've been thinking a lot lately about going away to school, and the implications of being a college student. At a recent open house, my mother questioned parties on campus, as if my moralities would somehow disappear as soon as I realize there's a kegger nearby. I realized that I'm past any point in my life where that would be appealing. As soon as I got into my accident, I realized it wasn't worth missing life constantly because being in another state of consciousness is more appealing. I love my life and I want to live every minute of it. Also considering I've already made the step in becoming a vegetarian, why would I destroy my body senselessly with mind altering nonsense? I want to stay healthy and live healthy; my liver's already sustained enough abuse. (Kind of considering calling myself Straight-Edge, but not sure if I want to deal with the "gang related" implications, slash the fact that it took me a long time of careful though to come to this conclusion).