Atomictumor

Damn.

It’s morning now as l’m writing this and will be evening when l post it. I wonder what will happen in the meantime?I drove into work listening to Sufjan Stevens and arguing w/ my head notions about God. I’m off target there living in my head, but that is what it is.

Lunch time. A busy morning and everyone is dropping sick here. Went round and round in my head w/ my God talk. Don’t know it, but l believe l had myself a little spiritual panic attack. See l don’t have trouble w/ the organized part of religion. It’s the personal that gives me fits. I want God to be a bit more obvious than what l’ve experienced up to this point.

lt seems to me that if God is real in any normal since of the word, then we ought to be able to point our fingers to … what? What exactly can we point our fingers to? Where is god? What cause and effect relationship can we attribute to God? God isn’t “real” in any normal sense of that word. Think about a log. You can go out, pick one up and whack somebody with it. A rock, a volkswagon, or a dog they’re all the same in the sense that they’re real. You can even drop any one of them and see the effect of gravity. I can even say gravity is real, but don’t ask me anymore about it.

But w/ God l can’t do any of that. l can’t hold him. l can’t kick him. l can’t take and make something beautiful from him. l can’t even have a conversation w/ him. So, in what sense is God real?

Afternoon break: Eating a granola bar. Not much has changed. I’ve tried not to dwell on it. That’s what l’ll do, if l’m not careful. l dwell on things. I mean really. I’ve thought about this all day. One of my co-workers broke down and started crying while she was talking to me. She thinks work is going to pot. I think it’s just a job. I’m not stressing about work, because (right now, ahem) I’m not seeking any meaning from it. I can’t say the same is true with spiritual matters. I don’t want religion to be just religion, like work is just work.

l can’t say l feel the intensity of my god questions right now. I have thought that perhaps this is all a matter of perspective. The willing mind is able to “see” things the unwilling cannot. That also strikes me as a tad delusional.

Evening: I gave the boys a bubble bath tonight. They put on a little play where spotz had a bubble beard and Lugnut poored water from as high as he could reach.

I can feel how today has left my belly knotted up. Unfortunately this blog entry won’t see my questions wrapped up. They’re still there. The Missus says I’ve got some anxiety going on with how I approach my religion. No doubt, she’s right. So I suppose I don’t deal well with not feeling certain about … well, whatever. In this case it’s God and religion. I just wish there was more to go on.

An Aside: This reminds me of a scene from The Last Temptation of Christ. Jesus has gone out to be with some religious recluses living in the desert. They know who he is. Jesus is talking with one of them and getting all emo about how hard it is to be God’s chosen one. The other one says, “Jeeze, get over yourself, at least God speaks to you.”

Indeed.

Came in the mail today, all with BJ’s name one em.  There were so many, our insurance company stuck em in the big envelope they use for sending out the policy handbooks and stuff.  Not a one of em, so far (and it looked like they ranged from 11/3 to 11/11, and included her ER doc, Surgeon, PCU doc, and a whole buncha people I haven’t heard of) wanted money from me.  Rock on, health insurance (and its even an HMO, take that, Canada!).

Today’s been full of good stuff like that.

A highlight of the day was when Eaves, Lugnut, Pigpen, and I were out running errands before the big kids got home.  We picked up a copy of the Oak Ridge Observer, and saw that Stan Mitchell had put a big point headline on top of the obit I wrote.  B.J. Kilpatrick, in the biggest newspaper headline she’ll ever be in.

That was really cool.

I went to the bank with Pigpen prior to that, and he got two balloons.  He is fun.

MastaG and I went through BJ’s t-shirts to see if any fit him.  One or two of the tighter ones do (although he doesn’t fill them out nearly as well as BJ did), and we put them in the back of the closet to keep.  Well, we ended up kinda keeping all of the t-shirts.  Theres always room for t-shirts, eh?

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Pigpen is moping around.  During the course of this post, I have read 3 books, had 5 books read to me, had food requested of me twice, been whined at once, and pouted at once.  He has run me from the couch with eye-burning flatulence.   He has yawned about 200 times, and now hinks its time to go to bed.  I don’t really hink its time.  (Pigpen doesn’t think, he hinks, you see).

He is now going to draw.  I have turned the HEPA filter on, and aimed it in the general direction of his butt.

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Tomorrow is barreling down on me.  The boys are going to spend the night with BJ’s folks, which everybody’s looking forward to, and I be here.  With no clue what to do with myself.  I don’t think I’m into hanging out with friends, but I also don’t think I’m into moping about the house either.

Ah well, something will come to me.  Maybe I’ll drive around.

Pigpen is now holding up a pen and telling me, in a way of words that would make our fearless leader proud “This is going to get more draw.”   He then says it 4 more times.  Each time, I tell him I don’t know what he’s talking about.  Finally, he sat down to draw, saying “I don’t understand.”

No doubt, kid.  No doubt.

I totally got my phone working on the laptop, so I can take work calls in… uh… the bathroom.

Wait, why was it that I was so concerned about that again?