Which Is Praying But Less Cheesy Because It's Funny and I Use the F-word

05/14/2008 5:57 AM – 6:20 AM

Okay, God, well, let’s try this. Me. Talking to you. Forgive the non-cap’s of your pronouns; I’ve got a cigarette in one hand. And something in me hates earnestness, because I can see how it leads to believing in ridiculous things. I don’t want to see miracle cures in every slick shiny that comes along.

I was reading the Psalms this morning, deriding the constant sighting of enemies, because there are crazies, drunks and bullies in the world, but actual enemies of me seem to be in short supply. Thank you. But then I realized that I do have enemies. They spring from myself. I am afraid of things. I’m afraid of my fear. It’s just one tiny little fucking switch, the switch that says: “Death is to be feared/death is not to be feared.” And I have trouble getting it to sit back into the “not feared” position. We have to give up on the things that we can’t do. But what can’t I do? Maybe I can’t actually write. Maybe my stories will always come out weird and unpublishable. I’m okay with that at the moment, but in the harsh light of an Under the Sun day or the heavy darkness of unasleep night, will I be?

I like this song. “Under the Bridge” feels like a hymn actually. I never want to be afraid again. I want to look forward to death to see what Narnia looks like, but I want to love being here too. I had this series of thoughts yesterday. One of the kids at work was having some sort of problem with her boy and I, as is my tendency, had only a snarky little comment to make about “that’s why I don’t have one.” But then I had this progression of thoughts, because while, yes, that actually is part of it, the other part is that now that I’m of marrying age, I’m not looking for just some girlfriend (wait, was I ever?), I’m looking for a wife, and to find a wife means that I have committed myself to a “til death” thing because I actually take marriage seriously, but committing myself to a “til death” thing means that I accept the fact that I’m going to die and I am not yet ready to accept that. Now, really, this was originally just kind of flashy dark humor, but there is some truth in it. I know that I’m going to die and, right at this moment, I’m fine with that. Weird, I actually am. It’s not just me saying it to make me feel better. Anyway, that thought process wasn’t there before except as a joke, but, sometimes, it is now. Like, obviously. Somehow the Spike/Happiness Equation doesn’t seem to work without you. So, Oh God of the Psalms, be my shield. Surround me with your favor to protect me from my enemies, which most of the time, are me. Umm, Amen.