irish.lemon

I had an English teacher in high school who I’d gone to for the better part of at least three years for help and advice.  Although, I’d hardly had enough life-experience (in other words, enough chances to fuck things up) to really gain from his insight.  However, being that he was my AP English teacher for two years and someone from home to hold onto when I went to DePaul, I heeded one piece of valuable advice: whenever I hit a wall or just need to vent, write.

And so, here I sit, uncharacteristically unnerved and incredibly insecure after a string of successful events that have occurred in a very short amount of time.  The conference went incredibly well, I’ve won two internship awards, all the nonsense with my records, major, and standing are in order, and I’m looking down the barrel of an internship with a large PR firm…what more could I ask for? 

Aside from the incredibly empty feeling dictating my daily routine, things, by all accounts, are finally going the way I want them to.  Yet, at the same time, I’m more terrified than I was exactly a year ago.  I’ve even gone to my first Sunday Mass in over four years at the behest of a mentor as well as for research for a Liturgy & Music class I’m in this quarter.  Maybe because I literally felt nothing but the urge to scream at the top of my lungs when I was sitting among the congregation, reciting the prayers I’ve managed to remember for so long, greeting people I’ve never met, kneeling in prayer while unable to actually pray, rather have an intellectual sparring match with God;whether in St. Vincent DePaul or St. Francis Xavier, I’ll challenge Him anywhere for either a rightful smiting or continue to be ignored.

Today’s Ash Wednesday.  I knocked on Casey’s office door  just to say ‘hi’ since I was already on campus for a newspaper ad I’m in, and I saw the ashes on his forehead, and he clearly saw mine with the complete lack of.  After being asked why I didn’t get myself to a service, I could only manage a pitiful response in the form of a shrug and an “I don’t think I’m going to get mine”…trying to come up with a “logical” reason as to why I ignored my “responsibility” was a matter of not wanting to disrespect a tradition I’ve known all my life by going through the motions without really believing in it anymore. 

Now, that situation, though occurring over four hours ago, is bothering me to the same degree it did at the moment of inquisition.  The debate has since crossed my mind, not what to give up for Lent, but what to give another chance.  After a heated debate with a coworker this weekend on the issue, he said, “you sound like you believe in something.”  True, but whether or not a deity fits my ideology is another matter.  I’m not content being just another among His flock, I damn well exercise my “free will” to the fullest…but there in-lies another contradiction to me.  If given the reasons to believe in my religion and a God again, I’d surely welcome the opportunity.  But for now, it doesn’t suit…

And if you know something that I don’t, then you must know more about me than I’d initially thought, and maybe that’s where your impatience with this resistance comes as so uncharacteristic.  Tell me then…what should I know?