Last night, I left work at around 8:15 pm. After saying goodnight to my manager and co-workers, I stepped out into the cold, dark, wintery, city scene and was instantly reminded of how alone I felt. And while I walked towards my car parked in front of McGovern's, the dreaded tears of my pathetic existence began to well up sooner than I had expected. Then I decided that in an effort to avoid experiencing an emotional breakdown at home, it might be wise to take a brief detour; so I turned left on John Ireland Blvd. and then right on Selby. Eventually I found myself ordering a cookie and milk in Nina's while making shallow small talk with the barista and then sitting in a booth where I felt slightly less isolated, but incredibly distracted. After about 25 minutes of useless web-surfing, I stepped outside again and found an old man walking with his old labrador. I immediately walked up to him and asked if I could pet the dog after explaining to him that Tuffy had passed away about a month ago. He was sympathetic and told me that his dog was nearing the end of her life as well. For a brief moment while stroking the dog's fur, I remembered how comforted I was whenever I was in Tuffy's presence and all of the times he sat next to me faithfully while I cried in confusion on the bridge above 35E in East Saint Paul. Then I headed home, hoping that I might find comfort in my room - but all I found were overwhelming feelings of anxiety, frustration, and hopelessness. 

Its in experiences similar to the one I had last night, that I seriously consider choosing death; when I forget about all that I've been blessed with and can't seem to see past anything but the pain of the present. How selfish is it - that I would even think about taking my life when I am completely aware of the potential pain that I could inflict on the people in my life? The same kind of pain that I'm trying to desperately to escape from. Thankfully, this is the conclusion that I came to last night: I cannot give up on my life, for fear that I might hurt someone else in the process. So I put down the blade and called my boyfriend. He listened to me desperately beg for help and encouragement while I cried on the other end of the phone line and slowly but surely talked me out of making an awful mistake; and finally, after several hours, my body stopped generating tears and I fell into a daze. 

All I can think about now is - how long will it be until this happens again? And if it does happen again, will I have enough strength to say no to death? I'm not sure what to expect - but in the meantime, I'll continue to slowly roll up my sleeves and bear this burden in the light.

Answers. I want some.

Right now, I'm sitting in my room while my family is engaging in prayer in the living room. For some reason, every time I join them I always leave with a pessimistic viewpoint and frustration with the lack of spiritual growth in my life.


Spiritual growth. What exactly is that anyway? How can we measure it? How do we even define it?


When I was little I thought of spiritual growth when I thought of my mom's friends that were really "godly" and spiritual people. I thought of the quiet kids in my Sunday school classroom that never got in trouble (while I got kicked out of classes for being disruptive), but participated dutifully by answering as many questions as possible.


A short interruption in this paragraph for a glimpse of a typical Sunday school class when I was a youngin':
Me & whoever I was sitting next to / distracting: hehehehhohooohhahahahhaha
Sunday School Teacher: Shannon? Do YOU have any prayer requests?!
Me: hheheh Yes. I pray that my dog would stop farting! hahahhAHAHAHAHAHHAhahahhahHahAHH
Sunday School Teacher: You're excused! Leave this classroom and go find your parents in the service!
[I leave the room awkwardly and hang out by the vending machine until service lets out.]


I thought of missionaries that came to visit my AWANA (christian boy/girl scouts of America) meetings and speak about their experiences. Those were the images that came to mind. Now people at church are usually the last people I think of when I think of what "spiritual growth" looks like - and why is that?


Maybe, its because people at church are often not what they say they are in church. We never are - theres always something we feel we must hide in order to be accepted amongst the people of the church we attend. BUT THAT MAKES NO FUCKING SENSE. For some reason, we've decided as human beings that its our job to play God sometimes and decide who fits and who doesn't fit in our church. Well thats funny, isn't it? Especially considering the fact that we've all got our own shit that we're hiding.


Do you want to know what I was doing before I started writing this? I was masturbating - instead of praying with my family. That is the choice that I made. My mom came in here and said, "we're going to pray as a family now. Would you like to join us?" And I'm thinking - no, I'm so freaking horny right now - please leave so that I can get back to this dirty endeavor! Some people might consider that to be mildly sacrilegious ...


I don't know. This is something I think about a lot. I wish sometimes that God would just give me a YES or NO answer because I'm sick of "maybe ..."


I know that a world with black&white answers for everything would be hellish and disturbing - there has to be a grey area! But in this case, can't I just get a straight-forward answer? It would be awesome if God just said to me right now, "Shannon! This is what you are doing - ______________ - and this is what you need to be doing - _____________ - in order to have a relationship with me!" And then I'd be like, "Okay, God! I'm so there. I got this like none othaaaah! BOOM." Thats totally realistic...


I know spiritual growth is probably something that you feel when you experience it. So my question is - what must I do in order to experience it? What must I do in order for church people to "see fruit bearing in my life?"


Or ... is this just a journey that won't end? Will I never reach the stage of spiritual achievement that I've always sought after? Is it even possible to do so?


I was sitting in my room the other night while I was home alone and I decided to start a book. (YES, me. I'm reading! Can ... you ... believe it?! ..... NO?! ..... yeahhh, okay). So I've been reading The Screwtape Letters by C.S. Lewis. I've been meaning to read it for a while and I finally picked it up at Border's last week. So far, its given me more spiritual clarity than I think I've ever discovered at any other point in my life - and its a fiction-based novel, great.


But seriously - I've never had temptation explained to me in a better way. So I've started trying to determine when I am and am not being tempted - as if thats possible, I know. But I almost feel like I'm more aware of Satan's presence in my life. That might sound like paranoia/craziness, but I don't care I guess.


All I know is that I want to get rid of the feeling that I've experienced on & off throughout my whole life. The feeling that makes me want to die because nothing seems to be working. A few days ago, I went to my first class - late, as usual - and sat there with an idle mind, not listening to a word that was said for the entire class period. In between my first and second class I worked on homework - barely making any progress because of how distracted I was. Then in my second class, my professor played the piano while my class sang Christmas carols. I didn't sing because I was crying. I don't really know why. Maybe its because Christmas reminds me of fights that I've had with my family, heartbreak, and plans to kill myself.


Or ... maybe I'm just depressed again. I mean, it IS wintertime - how original.


Anyway, I just would like to get out of bed in the morning on MOST days (instead of just SOME days) and actually feel like moving. But right now, I don't feel like moving or doing much of anything usually. I just want to sleep (provided I don't have nightmares) and pretend that I don't have any problems. In reality, I have far fewer problems than most people and I should be so happy to be as blessed as I am!


But then why don't I feel that way? Why do I feel like crying for no reason? Why does my body ache all the time and why am I so fucking irritable?! I don't know. I try to come up with answers of my own, but that never seems to lead to anything profound or meaningful or worth believing. I really like this one quote from Girl, Interrupted - 


"When you don't want to feel, death can seem like a dream. But seeing death, really seeing it, makes dreaming about it fucking ridiculous. Maybe, there's a moment growing up when something peels back... Maybe, maybe, we look for secrets because we can't believe our minds..." 

- Susanna Kaysen

I wonder if she has figured it out yet. Maybe ... I should write her a letter. Maybe ... I should try reading the Bible for once.

The first post of my third attempt at keeping a blog.

I chose a background/template - whatever you'd like to call it - with books for several reasons.
1). Its kind of colorful and therefore attractive to the eye
2). It makes me feel smart in a purely superficial & childish way
3). It reminds me to read the unread books sitting on my bookshelf in my room

Its not that I don't enjoy reading - I do. However, my obsession with finishing at least one fiction book and one non-fiction book per week in elementary school has long since evaporated into my ever-growing schedule. Also, since elementary school, I've never really thought of myself as a well-read person. So in a way, I feel almost guilty about choosing that particular background picture - like I'm lying to the world or something. Which is, of course, incredibly ridiculous and silly of me ... right?

Anyway, theres one example of how I generally think. Like most other people, I think too much about things that probably don't matter to anyone but myself. I'm very aware of this poor habit - and yet here I am, typing about my background picture choice for my third blog. You'd think that after the first two blogs, the picture in the background wouldn't matter so much anymore. Guess not.

Maybe, I'm so picky about the picture in the background because I'm really interested in visual arts. Maybe, I'm just a weeny that should be doing other things - like homework - maybe. Maybe this decision is taking up too much of my time due to both of my previous suggestions. Now I'm rambling and there is probably nothing that anyone would find interesting in this post.

I WAS going to write about something else in addition to the background picture crap - but now I think that I'll just go to sleep so that I can be energized tomorrow and maybe become a little bit fitter, happier, and more productive.