There is nothing quite like spilling a tall glass of perfectly mixed iced coffee on oneself at 3:28 am to wake me to the reality that is my life. I still had to laugh and smile to myself as I washed up a bit before logging on to jot a few things down.
The next thought that occurred to me was that I would like to start writing with a bit more candidness about my past and start the arduous task of walking my way, metaphorically, through the years of my life that have been consigned to the different recesses of my mind, usually for emotionally protective reasons. We all have different coping mechanisms to deal with pain and confusion, and for me, as introspective as I may be at times during the present, have become all too adept at squashing or repressing events and life circumstances that have hurt me.
Bear with me this morning, as my mind is still not functionally awake and I still have drabs and splatters of really cold coffee soaking into my t-shirt. My brain is also making me aware of the fact that I have to pee and get ready to leave for work in exactly 55 minutes, so I am certainly not at my word smithing best.
The thing that popped into my head as I walked down stairs is something that another blogger stirred up in me after he wrote about the IFB church movement. His name is John Shore and if you care to read his words and collection of ideas, information and links on the matter of toxic Christianity, his blog can be found on the left over there. *gestures vaguely to the left side of the page* I would link it and point it out to you, but I am not awake yet and still really have to go take a leak.
The reality is, I was raised in a evangelical, Independent, fundamental, Baptist home, church and private religious school. I am the son of not only a chemical and mechanical engineer (his real job), but my Dad was also a IFB senior pastor of two different churches. Yes, I am a preachers kid. I want to write about my experiences growing up in that position, but from a raw perspective to try and release, harness or capture what that exactly was like, from all angles, to the best of my recollection and without the rosy, rewriting of my own personal history that I am so prone to do. Okay, screw it, I am going to go piss. Be right back.
Much better.
Anyway, I want to write about how I grew up, as the thoughts and words come to me over time and I at least wanted to get that idea and wish down here, so maybe I will see it and flesh it out at some point. I think part of it was prompted by the dream I had before I woke up, of growing up in the same environment, but allowed to completely be myself, without having to hide and alter my external life due to the beliefs and constraints of such a repressive and socially different culture. My aim will not be to castigate or beat down the well meaning individuals who contributed to my life and education, but to concisely tell and relive what it was truly like growing up in what I believe now to be a strange, almost cultish and bizarre world of belief, Bible and "Christianity". That dream really stirred up some odd memories I had not thought about for many years.
My brain is booting up and now I am going to head to the shower, but I think I got the main ideas down. I don't know where this thread of writing will lead me, but it seems a better start than any. I'll be back after work. It is supposed to be a rainy day, so that will make the writing all the easier, I suppose.
daemon
Note: Picture is totally unrelated. I just thought he had a nice ass and am still not awake enough to hunt for a picture that captures whatever the hell it is I wrote here. Have a good day! :)
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