The Life Not Lived

I'm not one to think that God speaks to people directly and if some one told me that God spoke to them in a dream I would think they were an mad. But last night, well I think God spoke to me. Not in a dream, but through one.

In my dream I was a wedding. I don't know who's, but who ever they were they must have been very important because the officiator was a Bishop. I don't know how, but I found myself at the entrance to a grand Cathedral with the Bishop and I told him that his priests weren't there to help him with the mass. I seemed to think that he couldn't do it without help. "That's okay," he said in the kindest voice I had ever heard, "I'll just make you one," and he walked to the alter and bid me fallow.

The next thing I knew I was kneeling before the alter dressed in a white robe, and the Bishop put his hands on my head and made me a priest and while he spoke the words I remember feeling such joy that I cried. I also remember that his hands were covered in the anointing oil, so much that it dripped down my head and on to my back. I could feel it even as I put on the priestly vestments. But above all I remember the great feeling of being so close to God.

Some time passed in the dream, that is to say the location changed and I was know in a monastery but to me it seemed to be just an instant after the ordination. And I felt great fear and regret. I was glad to be serving, but I felt that I was in the wrong place. I feared for my life; I thought of myself at the lectern giving homilies, but not really doing anything. I knew intrinsically that I wouldn't be anyone of authority, anyone who could make a true substantive difference. I would be wasting all my potential. And I felt regret for the things I wouldn't have, a loving woman, something I have always wanted but would now never have. And a family with children, sons and daughters, who I could make the world better for. Being a priest I felt deep down wasn't right. It wasn't wrong either but I new that it wasn't what I was meant for. I knew I was meant for something different, something greater.

But I could not leave the priesthood. The die was cast and the dishonor would have been to much and I prayed for salvation and yet resigned myself to this fate. Then I was told I was no longer a priest. That the ordination was in valid because the bishop had been only one not three, as is required. And I felt humility and relief, and a sense of small joy but it soon left me. At that I awoke.

So I have had all day today, Palm Sunday, think about my dream. When I look back at it I feel certainty that t was more then the average dream, that it meant something. You must know this to understand; a few years ago I seriously considered becoming a priest, and the only reason I didn't was because my parents so wanted me to go to college. But while there I decided that it wasn't for me and so instead pursed film because to give into my desire to focus on politics I felt would have threatened me. As though it was naturally corrupting. Quickly though I realized that I had to go there if only because it felt so natural. But in the back of my mind I have always questioned my initial decision not to become a priest. This dream though seems to be saying that I have made the right choice, that the priesthood is for some, but not me. That I must pursue what makes me happy not joyful for that is so fleeting. And what makes me happy is serving the greater good and that is best done through the power of politics.

The Last Word

How important is it to you to have the last word? Because to me it is very important, I'll say thing that rightfully piss people off just so I can be the last one to say something. Why I wonder do I have this compulsion to have the last word?

I believe the answer lies with my desire for control. I think that whoever spoke last has an advantage because it is there words that hang in the air and in the participants’ minds. If your left having someone else’s words stuck in your head then in a way you have lost. Also to have the last word is to say that you are right. The other person or people acknowledge that what you are saying is correct, by not moving to correct you or add or challenge your statement. To be the last to speak is away of being acknowledged as superior. And I might have this unconscious need to feel superior. Even when some body should be above me, I have got to control my mouth better, lest I put my foot in it.

Never Enough Time

I've been thinking about time lately. How there isn't enough when you want and more then enough when you don't need it. I've been thinking about changing the past. If I knew then what I know now I would not have done what I did then. But if I had taken the other road would I be able to appreciate having done so?

I suppose everyone entertains these thoughts once in a while. I don't know what other people would change, but I know what I would: my attitude, my eating, my friends, my cowardly actions. The last have always been my greatest regret. I can live with being fat (plenty of people do), and my attitude did secure for me a comfortable if not desired social niche; my friends we few so I don't want to change them so much as get them. But many of my action's rather inaction's were motivated by fear. Fear of humiliation and rejection.

It's strange, but my fears were (and to some extent are) more personal then other people's. I didn't fear being rejected by a group. It had happened so often early in life that I don't mind now, the same for humiliation. Put me in front of a few people, it's as if I feel there is a finite amount of awareness in the room and they are each getting a greater share. Whatever I do will be remembered more because there are fewer of them. It doesn't make sense, does it?

I think about the time a head too. What I would like to happen. Sometimes I want importance more then anything, a place in history. Lately though I think of the more immediate future, the next five usually. I now what I want to have more than anything in that time, and it's not a degree. It's love. The love you freely give another and the love that is returned. That's what I see in my head, what I hope to have in time.

The Master, Lord of Time

I just love this charector from Doctor Who. Watch it, you'll love it too.
You will obey!

How Am I Perceived?

I often wonder what it would be like to have a conversation with myself because I have no idea what I'm like to other people. Some people like me, others seem to take an instant dislike to me. Take my family for instance...

While I think my sisters' and mother like me, I have come to think that my father doesn't. Not to say that he doesn't love me, but I don't think he likes me. If we weren't related I think he wouldn't want to spend anytime with me. I can't quite figure out why that is. I do think though that there is an imbalance in are relationship. As for my extended family, I don't think anyone more than five years older than me likes me. I think that perhaps I come off as snide, or arrogant, but no one tells me so I can't be sure.

Now the people I meet are a different story, lately I've been having better luck than I used with them. When I was in high school about half the people in my class and above (grade) didn't seem to like me. Three cases stand out in particular. The first was admittedly my own fault. Writing a poem about someone you like, then turning it in for a class assignment and finally telling other people about it is not the best way to get someone to like you especially when they don't seem to care to much for you to begin with. The 2nd case I never quite understood. Her was a girl who I respected, admired, and found attractive but for some reason seemed to loath me. When we talked it was almost always in group settings and on the few occasions we were alone it was always school related, except one where she told me she thought I was uncommitted and shouldn't even be apart of our organization, so I don't see what on earth I could to earn such a low opinion from her. I asked her more than once and never got an answer. She just wouldn't answer the question outright. Why she didn't like me still vexes me to this day. The 3rd person I had problems with was a guy my age who I just found to be rather prissy and I think my dislike of him my have been why he never took a liking to me. It is my fault thought that I treated him as I did and I have every intention of apologizing for my misconduct.

Lately however I have been having better fortunes with first meetings. I think that I learned to control myself in front of people more. I make better acquaintances in class now then I did in high school, but we almost never speak to each other once the semester ends. Socially I have been doing better with women; I think I'm getting better at flirting, I had a nice thing going with one girl 'till I found out she had a boyfriend and I even managed to go out on a couple of dates with another, but it didn't work out as I would have liked. I could never have gotten a date in high school (with anyone I liked), which raises the question what has changed? Is it the people I am around? Is it me who has become different or have I just learned to be what people want?

Sacred Text

As a college student one of the hardest things I had to learn was to write in my own books. Having grown up with an English teacher for a parent I was taught from an early age that you don't write in books. Ever since then anything in print has always been sacrosanct to me. It's why I erase anything I find in any of the used books I buy. It's why I wanted to blow up at my mother when she cut herself out of a picture of mine several years ago. Like Mel Brooks, who could write then erase anything as long as it was in pencil but hated to mark anything that was typed, I have found it very hard to write on my own printed essays (Why does the plural of essay still have a Y in it?).

Just looking at a computer screen you can see what I mean; you feel your eyes get tried and after a while no matter how good what your reading is you find that you have to stop. But if you find yourself in a really good book you can read it cover to cover no matter how strained your eyes might become. The same with a picture, if it's printed you might run your finger tips over it as though you can feel the contours of its subject. If you do the same on a computer screen you notice that it just isn't the same; it's as thought there is a layer between you and the picture.

Things on a screen are temporary and changeable, the things you hold in your hands are not. So to write on a book for me is a profound act. Whatever marking I make must have the greatest reason for being there. I doubt I could ever use a study Bible.

The Voices of My Head

I don't know when, but for a long time now I've been in the habit of not thinking in my own voice. I don't like my voice. I hate to hear it played back to me, I even don't like to hear when I'm talking because I know it doesn't sound to the listener as it sounds to me. If my voice sounded in the air the way it sounds in my head I'd be okay with it, but since it doesn't I try not to hear it.


So when I think in words, I think in a voice I like. One that conveys the desired sense of emotion that I'm then feeling. I usually use three, two more often then the third and each for different thoughts and moods. I have always based them off of the voices of real people, always actors or rather the a specific character they play. These are the ones I'm currently using.

David Tennant as The Doctor of Doctor Who

I've been thinking with this voice for about two years now, ever since Tennant took over the role of the Doctor. He is the voice I use for most of my emotions especially the passion laden ones. He is also who I like to think in when when I am especially angry, the sound of his righteous indignation is especially impressive. In real life Tennant speaks with a Scottish accent, but he uses an English one for Doctor Who and that's the one I think in.

Damian Lewis as Charlie Crews of Life

I started using Lewis' voice before Life premiered on NBC, when I began watching HBO's Band of Brothers in which he played the lead. He normally speaks with an English accent but he used an American one on HBO and he uses on on NBC. He is what I think in concerning religious, spiritual, and ethical matters. His soft voice is very pleasant making thinking about God feel nice.

Jeffrey Donovan as Michael Westen of Burn Notice

When I need a calm in-control focus I use Donovan. His character on Burn Notice is matter of fact, straight to the point, sarcastic, and violent when necessary. I think in his voice the least but I've only been using him for about 6 months now. He comes in very handy when under stress, especially at school.

I want to make clear that I don't hear these voices; I think in them. They don't talk to me, they think as me. They are ways of bringing control to the stress of everyday life and I don't use them all the time. Now before you conclude that it's wired I suggest you try it. Just think you normal thoughts in the voice of your favorite actor or character they play (it's best if they are the same gender you are). You might find it's not so bad.