Neither a Parasitic Twin, Nor a Television

Why is it people are so shocked that I don't own a television anymore? Actually, "shocked" doesn't quite begin to describe the reaction I often get. Sometimes I think I'll tell people that I have a parasitic twin named Irma who makes all my clothing choices; then tell them that I just don't own a TV. But, with the truth will come disappointment for them, because they would just love to see that twin after they watched some bizzarro Fox television documentary the night before. (Editor's note: Not that I find fetus-in-fetu to be a laughing matter, so if you have a parasitic twin good for you, no need to complain about my reference.) Oh now come on people, I did get the internet last year after my friend and co-worker kept referring to my apartment as "North Korea." So now I have access to my limited selection of shows that I like to watch: Grey's Anatomy, 30 Rock, and Weeds.

Oh, I'm sure I am missing out on being able to bond with the flock over who got voted off of American Idol or whether or not John and Kate will stay together for the sake of their 8 offspring. The choice to give up television was born out of my necessity to get through grad school requirements and teaching full-time without tempting my attention deficit self to get sucked into the abyss of reality television. I couldn't tell you who won any of the "competitive" reality shows for the last two years; but here's the thing: I DON'T CARE! I have chosen to live my own reality show and find interest in those around me. In the last year I have been on four continents, walked the Great Wall, and climbed Wayna Picchu seeing a view that changes how you look at the world. I have seen the flowers of Holland in full bloom, I have presented economic education workshops in China with a friend who participated in Tienanmen Square, I have danced and played with children in Peru who still smile despite the realities of their world.

For some the reality I have created is not as captivating as watching two morons who hit the fertility jackpot and got a show about it. As Americans, we act as if we don't want anyone to know our business. Yet, we are addicted to living vicariously through the "exploits of ordinary people" in manufactured situations that force them to be the ultimate "Survivor," become the "Biggest Loser," or even worse compete for the "Flava of Love." My students often try to keep me abreast on what Steve-O did the previous night even if I didn't ask. Paris Hilton and Nicole Richie have been raised up as role models through their pseudo-real life. People constantly ask me if I "watched American Idol last night?" When I tell them no and without asking if I care they launch into some tirade of how this or that aspiring singer was screwed over and got voted off. Seriously? DID YOU NOT HEAR ME THE FIRST FIFTY TIMES I TOLD YOU I DON'T HAVE A TELEVISION? Okay, I confess I would love to be on the Amazing Race. But even that show angers me with how many of the contestants behaved towards the locals in whatever country they happened to be racing through.

Before there was television, there was still "reality" shows. They were called circus sideshows and regular people like you paid to see bearded ladies and elephant men. Before there was John and Kate with their medically manipulated miracles, there were the Dionne Quintuplets who were taken by the Canadian government and put on display in a zoo-like atmosphere for tourists to view. But the reality of it all is that we are still shocked when someone is beheaded by extremists or commits suicide on an internet website. Why are we so shocked? Is it because we feel revulsion that someone would undertake such a heinous act? Or do we feel guilt and complicity for these actions because we either watched the video or were tempted to watch? Will "Octo-mom" get her very own reality show? Pretty sure that deal has been inked already.

Before you watch the next train wreck, do me a favor and try to get interested in your own reality. Look for ways to make your life so interesting, even if it's just to you, that you don't need to live through others.

Pray for Multiple Choice

So today I start with something easy: RELIGION! Before I begin, I think that it's important you understand that this is not some diatribe that is arguing for or against religion as a whole. I am not bashing one faith for another, this is just my experience of organized religion throughout my life. There, with that said it would probably be helpful to include a few important moments of how I got to where I am as far as my affiliation with "organized religion."

Having spent the first 5 1/2 years of my life sharing a house with my ultra Roman Catholic grandmother, it should come as no surprise to anyone that I wanted to be a nun when I was a little girl. I could even recite most of the mass from memory, which makes me realize that I confused the role of the sisters in the Catholic Church. Of my earliest organized religious experience, I can only remember a few things: my grandmother always sat in the pew closest to the heater (if you've been to WNY you understand), Sunday after church meant getting the paper from Marshall's Newsstand and a dozen Dunkin Donuts, and pretty much anything we seemed to do could be viewed as a sin and would send us straight to hell. I, like many, was instilled with a strong sense of guilt for the sins of the world at an early age. I don't really remember anything other than the "communion dry run" and purposely dumping lasagna on my dress when it comes to my First Communion. I was surprised to learn that the "body of Christ" pretty much tastes like the bottom of an ice cream cone if you eat before ice cream seeps into the bottom.

When I was in my teens I learned about all of the "wonderful things" throughout history done under the banner of Christianity. This did not make me doubt the existence of God, just the interpretation of God by man. Since my parents weren't "hard core" Catholics, they didn't make us go to church on a regular basis. Most family visits were to Midnight Mass where we got to see our inebriated priest try to stagger down the aisle without pitching the baby Jesus at the manger. I chose to make my confirmation for the following reasons: to please my grandmother, to choose a sweet "confirmation name," and because I knew people gave you money. I really did enjoy that I got personalized religious instruction from a really knowledgeable nun. However, even I realized something was amiss when I thought I was going to go into convulsions trying not to laugh while walking under the swords of the Knights of Columbus. I stayed Catholic throughout college and even brought up my desire to leave the church once, and only once, to my grandma. The transcript of our brief conversation went as follows:

Me: I really think I don't want to be Catholic anymore.

Grandma: WHAT?!? YOU SEE WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR COUSIN DON'T YOU? SHE LEFT THE CATHOLIC CHURCH TO BECOME A LUTHERAN AND LOST HER MIND!

Me: Grandma, pretty sure she lost her mind because she had a hormonal imbalance and post-partum psychosis.

Needless to say I waited until my grandmother had been dead for several years before I chose to give up Catholicism for Lent and become a Methodist. This choice came from living in America's Bible Belt for a few years and sampling the hodgepodge of denominations for a bit. My friend's dad was a Methodist Minister and since they seemed laid back, I figured it would be alright for me.

When my dad died suddenly from a medical error in July 2000, it was my church family and friends that consoled me, drove me to the airport, and were there for me when I needed them most. Adding to this already difficult situation was having a 14 year old student with brain cancer put into my class, and a friend being diagnosed a second time with breast cancer. So I turned to God and prayed that he (or whatever gender you conceptualize God to be) would save at least one of these people so special to me in my life. But, it wasn't meant to be. My student died in August 2001 and was buried by a man who was excited about the rapture and spoke about how God needed this kid more than we did. In the aftermath of September 11, 2001 there became a rise in the frequency of tirades denouncing other religions, most notably Islam at the Methodist churches I attended. Being a teacher of World History and Cultures I found that most of what was said was inaccurate. So badly I wanted to jump and tell people how Jesus if favorably mentioned in the Koran and how Muslims, Jews, and Christians traced their lineage back to Abraham. Yet, I chose to remain silent on these glaring inaccuracies rather than offend those around me. So I chose to stay away from regular worship at the church for awhile, though I found myself attending many funerals during this time for friends and family. In December, my friend died with her obituary appearing in the back of the paper where on the front it told how she was selected to carry the Olympic torch.

Following the death of my father, I got a phone call from my mom on a nearly nightly basis for the next 23 months where I basically tried to convince her not to kill herself. She had been briefly institutionalized at a psychiatric center in February 2001 for repeated suicide attempts. I went home for several weeks to take care of her and she asked me "what if there's a test to get into heaven?" Considering we didn't read the bible that much, I went out and got her a copy of the Complete Idiot's Guide to the Bible and told her to "pray for multiple choice," which actually made her feel better . I got one last phone call from my mom on May 22, 2002. I wasn't there and it went to the answering machine. I was pulled from proctoring a state exam the following morning and told my mother had died. I don't know for certain if she killed herself or died from cancer, I don't blame her either way. What I thought sucked was the constant barrage of well-meaning Christians who asked me "if my parents were saved?" Others were convinced that if my mother did kill herself she would be burning in hell and didn't hesitate to let me know it.

In April 2007 I was invited to a student’s church which I have attended on a very regular basis for more than two years now. It's a small "country" southern church filled with people who don't seem to mind that I'm a recovering Catholic or that I'm from the north. People are good to me and it's nice to have a sense of belonging somewhere even if I don't agree with everything espoused from the pulpit. It even became somewhat of a game when I wasn't allowed to officially join by "Pastor PowerPoint" who said he "wouldn't make it easy for me to join since I was Catholic." Last summer I volunteered at an orphanage and school center in Peru. Not that I am big reader of the bible, but through the experience I finally understood the story of the “scales falling away from Saul's eyes” and his transformation to Paul. Editor’s note: I am not saying I am the “new Paul” when I refer to this story, I just came back and saw my world with different eyes. We had gotten a new pastor while I was gone and one of his first tasks was to get me to join. Now I am actually the Sunday School teacher for the college age students, even though most days class is basically more catching up than bible study.

But, I still struggle with several things. Why do we all feel the need to prove that we are right and that Christianity is the only way? Isn't this the attitude that has caused the deaths of millions throughout history? Why is it that we see Muslim and Hindu extremism as a threat, yet fail to see the same danger emanating from Christian extremists? I seem to struggle with extreme viewpoints on any front, religious or scientific. Why can't there be a middle ground? How strong is my faith if I feel that I need to constantly prove others wrong? As a teacher of subjects that cover the basics of the major faiths, I am often asked by students which of them "right?" I do not believe that there is "one right or true religion." I believe you can show up to church every Sunday, sing songs proclaiming our faith and sport symbols that identify us as Christians and still be no more of a Christian then if we did nothing. There are good people out there who are truly following in the example of Jesus through their actions towards others. But I believe that these "good people" include Muslims, Deists, Hindus, Buddhists, Jews, Atheists, and plenty of others.

Wouldn't the world be a better place if we were only concerned with what religion was right for us as individuals and make us a better person who shows our love of Christ without having to wear a label? I know what it says in the bible about the son of God, you don't have to send me passages. But it also says "you shall know me by many names." So, maybe it's time to look at the good in other faiths, rather than pointing out what we see as wrong with them to prove what’s right about us. Regardless of what you believe, shouldn't we show kindness to our neighbor despite our differences? Personally, I find greater personal faith through the study of other religions.

In the end, we won't know until we die which of us, if any, is right. As for me, I'm praying for multiple choice.

Baaahhh: Welcome to the Flock

If you're reading this, there more than likely exists for you a high degree of probability that you too think that people are well, sheep. Or, there is a high degree of probability that you are bored and saw the link posted on Facebook and had nothing better to do. Either way, welcome to my world.

I basically believe that people, myself included, are sheep at some point or another in their lives given the right set of circumstances. We are indoctrinated into the field with the other sheep early on in our lifetimes through mass participation espousing the virtures of collectivity in this or that. We are taught to think for ourselves, but the moment we do BAMM! we are tagged as "trouble-makers" and usually assigned some type of punishment.

Though deep down we know we are smart enough and long to be the shepherd, we sometimes choose to follow the flock because it is easier than going against it. Am I that person that constantly feels the need to stand up and shout out my objections to the dissemination of misinformation? Absolutely! Yet, I am also the person who often times finds herself screaming inside of her head, rather than outside it. For you see, I do want to belong in the society in which I live and I recognize that sometimes one must be the wolf to get the attention of the sheep.

The purpose of this blog is to two-fold: most importantly, it is to help my readers in overcoming or avoiding barriers of ignorance erected by those that wish to control us through our fears. The other purpose? Let's face it, it's cheaper than therapy!