What are synergistic pairs? The Miriam-Webster dictionary defines synergism as: “The interaction of elements that when combined produce a total effect that is greater than the sum of the individual elements.” In short, these are people who are essential to each other, and in a sense inseparable.
Of the pairs, the most synergistic would be the Defarges. Earnest and Therese Defarge are an amazingly compatible couple contrary to what most people would get out of the book. Before separating these two for further analysis, one needs to think about the front they put on to cover their illegal activities. A wineshop in France is not very odd, so it presents the unique opportunity to make legal money and have a meeting place that would appear perfectly normal. The Defarges undoubtedly chose a wineshop for that reason, if not Madame Defarge herself as she is a very shrewd woman. At first glance, Madame Defarge appears to be a very controlling lady. She runs the show and calls the shots, makes the hit list, informs people that there is a spy in the wineshop, and has the cold heart needed to keep the revolution under keeps until the proper time has arisen. It could appear that she controls her husband with an iron fist, but taking a deeper look at Monsieur Earnest Defarge, one realizes that is not entirely the case.
Monsieur Defarge has an equally important, if not more necessary role than his wife. While Madame alerts people and knits away, her husband uses his speech to quell any rumors, make the necessary arrangements for spiriting away Dr. Manette, and tactfully rebutting questions from various spies. Monsieur may be the ancillary of the relationship, he is nonetheless indispensable.
The most interesting synergistic pair may just be Sydney Carton and C.J. Stryver. Stryver is the muscles of the pair, having the eloquence to woo the jury and even the crowd over to his point of view. However, Stryver could do nothing without Carton, as Sydney Carton is the brains of the pair. Carton is the one who notices the resemblance of himself to Charles Evermonde, called Darnay, therefore getting Darnay the very rare acquittal from the treason charge. This is what makes Carton and Stryver, as earlier mentioned, a very interesting pair. Stryver has a very big personality, seeming to be the dominant, but definitely not controlling partner. He is described as a “big man”, presumably referring to his personality, as the book gave no mention of his physical size. Stryver is a very intriguing character in that he appears to have no sense of propriety. He declares to Carton that he will do Lucie Manette a favor by marrying her (which in response Carton drank his alcoholic punch with “great haste”) and then tells Carton that he should get a woman to marry as well. Stryver recognizes that Carton needs to start taking his life seriously, but doesn’t seem to want to do anything about it.
Carton on the other hand, as much as he knows his life isn’t good, also doesn’t want to change. Carton is resigned to stay at his station in life, although there are times when he desires that he was better. Carton is in love with Lucie Manette but he grants to himself that fact that she will never love him back. He sheds a few tears about it and then moves on from his depression, but not his love. Carton in relation to Stryver presents an interesting analysis. Carton is smarter than Stryver, just as Stryver is better at public presenting than Carton. Carton is too sloppily dressed, hung-over, and generally appearing apathetic to stand in front of a judge with any hopes of winning a case. Stryver is neither observant nor smart enough legally to be a one man team. Even though they are opposites, they are indissoluble.
Most people wouldn’t think of Jarvis Lorry and Dr. Alexandre Manette as a synergistic pair. Yet by taking a closer look, one realizes that they are inalienable from each other. The entire Manette family gives Jarvis Lorry something he has always longed for. Lorry will never admit (being the man of business that he is) that he has forever desired a place to call home, and people to call family. The Manettes give him that and Dr. Manette in particular gives him someone to look after. Manette is a fragile person after being in the Bastille for so long, and has a tendency when faced with stress to resort to his shoe-making, in essence having a relapse of when he first was set free. Lorry is the one who is always there for Manette, who decides to eventually throw out his shoe-making paraphernalia in an effort to curb Manette’s relapses. Lorry gives to Manette stabilization in his life. As much as Alexandre Manette loves his daughter, he realizes she is an attractive woman and will not only be garnering the attention of men, but returning it as well. Lorry is someone Manette can always count on to be there for him when times turn rough. Lorry will be able to bring him back to reality and save him from the depression that tries to overtake him.
Lorry also pairs with Jerry Cruncher the “honest tradesman”. Cruncher has a very auspicious but definitively not legal night life. Cruncher derives money from the sale of cadavers and therefore has to exhume the bodies from the graves quickly and inconspicuously. Lorry unknowingly gives Jerry a cover for his evening work by employing him legally to carry messages for Tellsons bank. Jerry now can explain how he makes money should anyone come asking around as being a messenger for Tellsons bank happens to be a very reputable job.
Jerry gives to Lorry information that he wants. Jerry can get into places inconspicuously and garner information that is vital to Lorry. Jerry doesn't pry into Lorry's business although he does wonder sometimes what Lorry's cryptic messages are. Jerry refers to himself as an honest businessman several times, and works very hard at his night life as a gravedigger. Jerry also is Lorry's protector, a bodyguard of sorts. Lorry is an old man and although he will stay at Tellsons bank, he's not stupid enough to think he doesn't need protection. While Jerry physically protects Jarvis Lorry from harm, he likewise looks after him, even moving into the same house to ensure he is fine.
The last synergistic pair would be Miss Pross and Lucie Darnay. Not only do these two have a incredibly strong relationship (Miss Pross having raised Lucie), they offer each other exactly what the other needs. Miss Pross, after her brother left and being a single woman, didn't have work or a place to live, and Lucie gave that to her. Lucie needed to be looked after and Miss Pross was the perfect match. Lucie, not having a mom, wouldn't get the female attention and guidance that she needed, but Pross came to the rescue. Miss Pross offers the most important thing to Lucie, and that would be stabilization, someone to trust, to confide in. Miss Pross fulfills the role of mother and also the role of best friend, strengthening and protecting her Lucie.
So what is synergism? It is the elements combined producing something greater than when those same elements were apart. One could also say that it means two are better than one, in fact the Bible even say that a cord of three strands is not easily broken. While these synergistic pairs are not made up of three people, a cord of two strands is likewise not as easily broken as a cord of one strand.
Thursday, January 17, 2013
A little bit of graverobbing...
Four men equipped with shovels and dressed in dark clothing creep into a graveyard. Who are they? Their deeds will soon tell of the nature of their occupation. One man stands hidden behind a gravestone, his eyes looking back and forth, searching for something. The other three men gather around a freshly filled in grave and with a grunt, the first man drives his shovel into the earth. Time passes and soon a wooden box is hauled from the damp and dank grave. Crowbars quietly attempt to pry open the dirt covered lid; and with a sharp noise louder than these men would prefer the wood gives way. A body, clean from a pre-burial wash, pale from God-given death, and eyes that are closed forever is pulled from the coffin. The men quietly steal from the graveyard, now five in number. So one now asks; who are these men? Their silent midnight occupation would make them…grave robbers.
While this story is entirely made up, there are nuggets of truth in it. Grave robbing was one of the most infamous jobs one could have in the 1800’s. Grave robbing was not a dangerous crime to commit, contrary to popular belief. It was considered a misdemeanor not a felony in common law. Therefore, one could not be executed for robbing a grave, only fined and/or imprisoned. However, if a robber took anything material from the grave such as jewelry or clothing, it did turn into a felony. Robbers prided themselves on only taking the body and leaving everything else behind. The trade of grave robbing paid very well so taking the risk of a fine or a stint in jail was thought to be worth it. Many officials would turn a blind eye, considering it a necessary evil. The reason that the bodies needed to be stolen was that the doctors in training needed to dissect a human body to understand it better. The government did allowed bodies of executed criminals to be used but not enough executions were happening. Therefore, doctors with students (especially rich ones) turned to buying their own cadavers, usually not asking too many questions as to where they came from.
Grave robbing was a team job, so one man would stand guard to watch for any guards or family members of the deceased. Robbers would use wooden shovels to avoid the clang of shovels against each other. Once the coffin was excavated, the bottom or the top half of the lid was pried of using crowbars and then the body was roped out. Replacing the coffin in the earth, and filling the grave again, the robbers would then sneak out. They usually had the bodies pre-sold so all they had to do was deliver. This process would take no short amount of time (a couple hours) and was also a dirty job.
There were many techniques that grave robbers used to get the bodies. They would sometimes use young women to scope out the freshest graves. Posing as mourners, the women would attend a funeral, and come back with information concerning family members staying nearby, or whether the deceased had a communicable disease. Robbers would also bribe staff members as they had closer access to the bodies and could recommend which ones to steal. Local officials were paid off as needed, but the main problem was the families who would keep watch for a few days until the bodies were worth nothing. There were, however some very smart grave robbers. Upon seeing the families keeping guard, they would start digging a tunnel 15 to 20 feet away and burrow under the coffin, crack open one end and drag the body out the tunnel.
Grave robbing did reached its peak in the 1800’s when there was an increase of young people wanting to go into the medical profession. But it all really started with the Egyptians. Thieves would break into the tombs and take out the bodies, at first reburying their own then later another not even bothering with that. Many safeguards were employed to try and stop them, including extremely tight entrances, or 3 consecutive doors that were exceedingly thick (the doors were later found to have been blasted at with 19th century explosives). Finally the Egyptian priests had had enough so they moved the mummies to a communal grave, this being about 15 centuries before Jesus. In spite of this, the graves were eventually broken into by a notorious grave robbing family, the Abdel Rassouls in the 1870’s. When amulets and various rare cartouches appeared on the black market, the authorities went into action and arrested a man connected with the family. After extracting information from the man, the authorities went to the tomb and discovered Amenophis I, Tuthmosis I and II, Seti I, and Ramses I and III.
While those bodies were worth stealing, in general body snatchers didn’t care who they snatched. Resurrection men (as they were often called) stole the body of John Scott Harrison. Harrison was the son of President William Henry Harrison (the body was later returned after being found in a medical school). With so many people wanting to become doctors, there weren’t enough bodies to go around, so whether a person was famous or not was of little consequence to the resurrectionists unless they could get more money for it..
People didn’t like their relatives being stolen and they would often ransack the medical laboratories in an effort to get the bodies back. Many preventative measures were taken to make sure that the bodies didn’t need to be recovered in the first place. Families would keep watch by the grave for several days until the body was decomposed enough that the grave robbers wouldn’t take it. One preventative measure was patented by Philip K. Clover in Ohio. The “coffin torpedo” was rigged up underground and when the body snatchers would come and start digging the device would fire several lead balls into the intruders.
Grave robbing still happens in some countries to this day. In Colombia grave robbers (guaqueros) are participating in an illegal trade that makes millions of dollars a year. They are recognized as a labor union and one guaquero even published his memoirs. Tombs are not always robbed for bodies; in fact the guaqueros are only interested in the Aztec jewelry, Incan pottery and other Olmec and Mayan paraphernalia.
The need for grave robbing died out when the government made it legal to donate bodies of oneself or relatives to local medical schools. However, the history of grave robbing will always be around and will forever be one of the most interesting topics to research.
While this story is entirely made up, there are nuggets of truth in it. Grave robbing was one of the most infamous jobs one could have in the 1800’s. Grave robbing was not a dangerous crime to commit, contrary to popular belief. It was considered a misdemeanor not a felony in common law. Therefore, one could not be executed for robbing a grave, only fined and/or imprisoned. However, if a robber took anything material from the grave such as jewelry or clothing, it did turn into a felony. Robbers prided themselves on only taking the body and leaving everything else behind. The trade of grave robbing paid very well so taking the risk of a fine or a stint in jail was thought to be worth it. Many officials would turn a blind eye, considering it a necessary evil. The reason that the bodies needed to be stolen was that the doctors in training needed to dissect a human body to understand it better. The government did allowed bodies of executed criminals to be used but not enough executions were happening. Therefore, doctors with students (especially rich ones) turned to buying their own cadavers, usually not asking too many questions as to where they came from.
Grave robbing was a team job, so one man would stand guard to watch for any guards or family members of the deceased. Robbers would use wooden shovels to avoid the clang of shovels against each other. Once the coffin was excavated, the bottom or the top half of the lid was pried of using crowbars and then the body was roped out. Replacing the coffin in the earth, and filling the grave again, the robbers would then sneak out. They usually had the bodies pre-sold so all they had to do was deliver. This process would take no short amount of time (a couple hours) and was also a dirty job.
There were many techniques that grave robbers used to get the bodies. They would sometimes use young women to scope out the freshest graves. Posing as mourners, the women would attend a funeral, and come back with information concerning family members staying nearby, or whether the deceased had a communicable disease. Robbers would also bribe staff members as they had closer access to the bodies and could recommend which ones to steal. Local officials were paid off as needed, but the main problem was the families who would keep watch for a few days until the bodies were worth nothing. There were, however some very smart grave robbers. Upon seeing the families keeping guard, they would start digging a tunnel 15 to 20 feet away and burrow under the coffin, crack open one end and drag the body out the tunnel.
Grave robbing did reached its peak in the 1800’s when there was an increase of young people wanting to go into the medical profession. But it all really started with the Egyptians. Thieves would break into the tombs and take out the bodies, at first reburying their own then later another not even bothering with that. Many safeguards were employed to try and stop them, including extremely tight entrances, or 3 consecutive doors that were exceedingly thick (the doors were later found to have been blasted at with 19th century explosives). Finally the Egyptian priests had had enough so they moved the mummies to a communal grave, this being about 15 centuries before Jesus. In spite of this, the graves were eventually broken into by a notorious grave robbing family, the Abdel Rassouls in the 1870’s. When amulets and various rare cartouches appeared on the black market, the authorities went into action and arrested a man connected with the family. After extracting information from the man, the authorities went to the tomb and discovered Amenophis I, Tuthmosis I and II, Seti I, and Ramses I and III.
While those bodies were worth stealing, in general body snatchers didn’t care who they snatched. Resurrection men (as they were often called) stole the body of John Scott Harrison. Harrison was the son of President William Henry Harrison (the body was later returned after being found in a medical school). With so many people wanting to become doctors, there weren’t enough bodies to go around, so whether a person was famous or not was of little consequence to the resurrectionists unless they could get more money for it..
People didn’t like their relatives being stolen and they would often ransack the medical laboratories in an effort to get the bodies back. Many preventative measures were taken to make sure that the bodies didn’t need to be recovered in the first place. Families would keep watch by the grave for several days until the body was decomposed enough that the grave robbers wouldn’t take it. One preventative measure was patented by Philip K. Clover in Ohio. The “coffin torpedo” was rigged up underground and when the body snatchers would come and start digging the device would fire several lead balls into the intruders.
Grave robbing still happens in some countries to this day. In Colombia grave robbers (guaqueros) are participating in an illegal trade that makes millions of dollars a year. They are recognized as a labor union and one guaquero even published his memoirs. Tombs are not always robbed for bodies; in fact the guaqueros are only interested in the Aztec jewelry, Incan pottery and other Olmec and Mayan paraphernalia.
The need for grave robbing died out when the government made it legal to donate bodies of oneself or relatives to local medical schools. However, the history of grave robbing will always be around and will forever be one of the most interesting topics to research.
Monday, December 31, 2012
Country
Another essay for English:
I am country.
Even though I grew up in suburbia less than ten minutes from the big city lights, the country is my home.
Have I ever lived there? No. Then what is it that makes me love it so much?
I love the music, the food, the attitude and the people.
Many, many people hate country music. I have very few friend that can tolerate it when I ride int eh car with them, I love it because it tells about the realities of life. How hard it is, and how you should find joy in the little things.
I love the food. Venison if fantastic and nothing can be compared to fresh vegetables right out of the garden. Don't even bring 'em inside to wash them. Just dig in! Big hearty meals after working all day? Strew, fresh bread and those veggies? How can you get better?
Don't forget those country boys! With hot tan lines, serious muscle, dressed in plaids and wranglers. Picking you up in a truck, politely tippin their hat and opening the car door? They treat you right.
But the thing that I love most about the country is the land. The sunrises, unobstructed by buildings. The smell of fresh hay and the dusty barns. Muddy boots by the door, the shuffle of horses in their stalls, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the barn.
That is what makes me a country girl.
I am country.
Even though I grew up in suburbia less than ten minutes from the big city lights, the country is my home.
Have I ever lived there? No. Then what is it that makes me love it so much?
I love the music, the food, the attitude and the people.
Many, many people hate country music. I have very few friend that can tolerate it when I ride int eh car with them, I love it because it tells about the realities of life. How hard it is, and how you should find joy in the little things.
I love the food. Venison if fantastic and nothing can be compared to fresh vegetables right out of the garden. Don't even bring 'em inside to wash them. Just dig in! Big hearty meals after working all day? Strew, fresh bread and those veggies? How can you get better?
Don't forget those country boys! With hot tan lines, serious muscle, dressed in plaids and wranglers. Picking you up in a truck, politely tippin their hat and opening the car door? They treat you right.
But the thing that I love most about the country is the land. The sunrises, unobstructed by buildings. The smell of fresh hay and the dusty barns. Muddy boots by the door, the shuffle of horses in their stalls, sunlight streaming through the cracks in the barn.
That is what makes me a country girl.
My Bench
Short essay I wrote for my English class:
How do I feel about a park bench?
I feel relaxed. When I think of a bench, I think of wood so weathered that it's almost grey, and a wrought iron frame with small intricate designs.
I think of my back to the pier, water lapping against the sand. I think of the sun just setting, and pink and blue streaking through the sky.
I imagine green grass and huge terra cotta pot filled with mums on either side of my bench.
I feel the warm breeze on a Sunday night after church, just before it rains. The wind whipping my hair backs and my skirt pressed against my legs.
When I'm on the bench, I'm eating cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, and drinking orange soda. On the bench with me is by friend of 15 years, Clara. 15 years we've been coming to this bench, and may another 15 go by.
On my grey, weathered bench, I lastly hear the carousel with all the little children going round and round and round.
When I look at a park bench, I think of Charlotte beach on a warm summer night just before it rains, with my long time friend Clara.
How do I feel about a park bench?
I feel relaxed. When I think of a bench, I think of wood so weathered that it's almost grey, and a wrought iron frame with small intricate designs.
I think of my back to the pier, water lapping against the sand. I think of the sun just setting, and pink and blue streaking through the sky.
I imagine green grass and huge terra cotta pot filled with mums on either side of my bench.
I feel the warm breeze on a Sunday night after church, just before it rains. The wind whipping my hair backs and my skirt pressed against my legs.
When I'm on the bench, I'm eating cucumber and cream cheese sandwiches, and drinking orange soda. On the bench with me is by friend of 15 years, Clara. 15 years we've been coming to this bench, and may another 15 go by.
On my grey, weathered bench, I lastly hear the carousel with all the little children going round and round and round.
When I look at a park bench, I think of Charlotte beach on a warm summer night just before it rains, with my long time friend Clara.
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Family.
I recently went to visit my two younger brothers graves. Thomas and Samuel would have been 14 and 13 in this year. Altho they died when I was a young one, I still feel very much for their death and it does affect me. As I stood there, staring down at the graves of 2 boys who never had a chance to live, memories came flooding back.
Some were memories of when Linda was expecting, things like baby names, shopping, where everyone was gonna sleep. But then, my memories shifted over to the following years after they died. How everything went downhill, and life became miserable for everyone.
My best girlfriend CW took me to the cemetary, and I was overcome with emotion. While struggling not to cry, I ranted about how I blamed Linda for their deaths, and how life would've been different had they been alive. How my brother John never comes to see them, and how I feel like he doesn't care.
What really made me so mad I almost couldn't keep from crying was that the graves were overun with grass and dirt. On my knees, I angrily tore up grass and push the dirt off the gravestones. I just as angrily vented to CW about how Linda couln't even come to see the graves of her 2 boys. I knew she hadn't been there because it was right after their birthdays, and the graves were, like I said, a mess. Any mother in her right mind wouln't let the graves of 2 precious babies remain overgrown.
I've been sort of depressed since then. I've been thinking about how I have no family to talk to, call up, or even text. Admittedly it is thru my own decision, but it is a decision that had to be made. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurtwhen there is no one to call when you're so sick that you can't even get up to get medication. Or when a boy betrays your trust, there is no dad to run to for comfort.
I could go on and on with examples, but you get it.
I sometimes wonder if I will ever shake this feeling of immense loss.
Some were memories of when Linda was expecting, things like baby names, shopping, where everyone was gonna sleep. But then, my memories shifted over to the following years after they died. How everything went downhill, and life became miserable for everyone.
My best girlfriend CW took me to the cemetary, and I was overcome with emotion. While struggling not to cry, I ranted about how I blamed Linda for their deaths, and how life would've been different had they been alive. How my brother John never comes to see them, and how I feel like he doesn't care.
What really made me so mad I almost couldn't keep from crying was that the graves were overun with grass and dirt. On my knees, I angrily tore up grass and push the dirt off the gravestones. I just as angrily vented to CW about how Linda couln't even come to see the graves of her 2 boys. I knew she hadn't been there because it was right after their birthdays, and the graves were, like I said, a mess. Any mother in her right mind wouln't let the graves of 2 precious babies remain overgrown.
I've been sort of depressed since then. I've been thinking about how I have no family to talk to, call up, or even text. Admittedly it is thru my own decision, but it is a decision that had to be made. That doesn't mean it doesn't hurtwhen there is no one to call when you're so sick that you can't even get up to get medication. Or when a boy betrays your trust, there is no dad to run to for comfort.
I could go on and on with examples, but you get it.
I sometimes wonder if I will ever shake this feeling of immense loss.
Saturday, September 8, 2012
AntiChristian
Most of my christian friends don't understand why I left the Christian faith. Most of my "heathen" friends never asked, or just assumed because of things I said about my past.
I've decided to make it clear to all (who read my blog). I'm will garuntee that my christian friends will not see it as a valid excuse, and will tell me not to judge christianity on past mistakes. But it's a lot easier to say when you havn't had a road as hard as mine.
The very simple reason that I will branch off from, is that while I was a christian, I lived a miserable, hellish, useless exsistance. My life was shit, nobody attempted to help me, and I was basically told to suck it up. When I moved out, it was a "heathen" friend that came to my rescue. None of my christian friends wanted to get between my parents and I. My friend W was the one that saved me. I will owe him for the rest of my life. It was move out or end my hellish life. To this day, I don't think anyone understands how bad it was.
When I got into the typical teenage/young adult activities (sex, drugs,alcohol), thats when some of my christian friends started leaving or taking a pretty damn conspicuous 6-8 month break from being in my life. The reaction I got when I told all my chirstian friends what I was doing, basically to test our friendship and see who was really there for me, were radically different. One friend started laughing, another could only nod her head in horror and say "Oh..Oh...oh." Yet another was suprised, and one simply exclaimed "MARTHA!?!?!" Some people I didn't get to talk to face to face. I had to tell them over the phone or in an email. After I sent an email to an out of state friend, I got a phone call from her. She told me she had read it and had started crying while skyping with her boyfriend. Slowly, friends started distancing themselves or leaving me. The worst part was, half of them told me they wern't suprised. They had expected it.
That made me really friggen mad. How could you see it coming, and not do anything to sway me the other way? Really, sit back and watch? How much of a hypocrite can you possible be. The Bible says to witness to people, but they just let it happen?
My "heathen" friends, they were there for me while I was a mess. They didn't ditch or distance themselves from me, no matter what I said or did. It's not that they approved of all the things I was doing, they told me what they thought. But they didn't leave or judge. I didn't lose one friend.
So here is why I left "the faith." Because I have a better life now, because my non christian friends were the ones that were there for me. I left so that when I get a tattoo or 20 odd piercings, I don't get upturned noses, pointed stares, or get told that I "desecrated my body." To not have to feel guilty that I have done the "ultimate sin", or rebelled against God. To not have people constantly SHOVE their beliefs on me, and tell me that I had no valid excuse to leave the church. That having two parents that claimed that they were christian, but one emotionally and verbally abusing me, the other completely whipped and not standing up for me was not a reason. That my 18 years of hell was "for a purpose" and that God had a "reason" and that it should have made me "stronger in faith". That I shouldn't judge christianity on the two people that were supposed to exemplify it for me. Yeah right, spare me.
I can say anything to try to make Christians understand, but its no excuse. God never did anything for you? He delivered you from your parents, who by the way, really weren't that bad. Your Christian friends deserted you? Well, they just didn't want to be dragged down with you. They preach at you all the time? They are just doing their chrstian duty by witnessing. 24/friken7. Never stop witnessing. No, I don't ask you out to dinner just to preach at you and tell you that you should talk to your parents (also known as sarcasm).
I cannot win with Christians. So I have given up. I am "forever busy" to the friends that try to preach and judge. I have my reasons, no matter how much they are unacceptable.
A side note. It's not that I don't have good friends, best friends that are christians. Cassy never once left me behind or judged. Shannon stayed by my side. My ex pastor was one of the few from my church that was in my corner. Keith will tell me exactly what he thinks, but never once "forgot" about me. I know it's impossible for a christian to think that I could have a better life, that I could be happier. It will catch up to you, they all say. Let it come, because nothing could be worse that living with my parents.
I've decided to make it clear to all (who read my blog). I'm will garuntee that my christian friends will not see it as a valid excuse, and will tell me not to judge christianity on past mistakes. But it's a lot easier to say when you havn't had a road as hard as mine.
The very simple reason that I will branch off from, is that while I was a christian, I lived a miserable, hellish, useless exsistance. My life was shit, nobody attempted to help me, and I was basically told to suck it up. When I moved out, it was a "heathen" friend that came to my rescue. None of my christian friends wanted to get between my parents and I. My friend W was the one that saved me. I will owe him for the rest of my life. It was move out or end my hellish life. To this day, I don't think anyone understands how bad it was.
When I got into the typical teenage/young adult activities (sex, drugs,alcohol), thats when some of my christian friends started leaving or taking a pretty damn conspicuous 6-8 month break from being in my life. The reaction I got when I told all my chirstian friends what I was doing, basically to test our friendship and see who was really there for me, were radically different. One friend started laughing, another could only nod her head in horror and say "Oh..Oh...oh." Yet another was suprised, and one simply exclaimed "MARTHA!?!?!" Some people I didn't get to talk to face to face. I had to tell them over the phone or in an email. After I sent an email to an out of state friend, I got a phone call from her. She told me she had read it and had started crying while skyping with her boyfriend. Slowly, friends started distancing themselves or leaving me. The worst part was, half of them told me they wern't suprised. They had expected it.
That made me really friggen mad. How could you see it coming, and not do anything to sway me the other way? Really, sit back and watch? How much of a hypocrite can you possible be. The Bible says to witness to people, but they just let it happen?
My "heathen" friends, they were there for me while I was a mess. They didn't ditch or distance themselves from me, no matter what I said or did. It's not that they approved of all the things I was doing, they told me what they thought. But they didn't leave or judge. I didn't lose one friend.
So here is why I left "the faith." Because I have a better life now, because my non christian friends were the ones that were there for me. I left so that when I get a tattoo or 20 odd piercings, I don't get upturned noses, pointed stares, or get told that I "desecrated my body." To not have to feel guilty that I have done the "ultimate sin", or rebelled against God. To not have people constantly SHOVE their beliefs on me, and tell me that I had no valid excuse to leave the church. That having two parents that claimed that they were christian, but one emotionally and verbally abusing me, the other completely whipped and not standing up for me was not a reason. That my 18 years of hell was "for a purpose" and that God had a "reason" and that it should have made me "stronger in faith". That I shouldn't judge christianity on the two people that were supposed to exemplify it for me. Yeah right, spare me.
I can say anything to try to make Christians understand, but its no excuse. God never did anything for you? He delivered you from your parents, who by the way, really weren't that bad. Your Christian friends deserted you? Well, they just didn't want to be dragged down with you. They preach at you all the time? They are just doing their chrstian duty by witnessing. 24/friken7. Never stop witnessing. No, I don't ask you out to dinner just to preach at you and tell you that you should talk to your parents (also known as sarcasm).
I cannot win with Christians. So I have given up. I am "forever busy" to the friends that try to preach and judge. I have my reasons, no matter how much they are unacceptable.
A side note. It's not that I don't have good friends, best friends that are christians. Cassy never once left me behind or judged. Shannon stayed by my side. My ex pastor was one of the few from my church that was in my corner. Keith will tell me exactly what he thinks, but never once "forgot" about me. I know it's impossible for a christian to think that I could have a better life, that I could be happier. It will catch up to you, they all say. Let it come, because nothing could be worse that living with my parents.
Monday, August 20, 2012
Reminders.
Today was full of memories and reminders.
I am attending my college's free student help seminars. This week focuses on math skills (of which I freely admit I have none) so I took the opportunity to get some help on a subject that I haven't touched in years.
As I took the placement test, my confidence kept sinking. More and more questions popped up, and as I kept hitting that "I don't know" button, my spirits were in despair.
I reached the final pages, and not to my surprise, out of the 244 subjects in the math genre I was tested on, I only passed 24. I kept looking at those 0/10 or 0/67 scores and wondered how the hell I could even think about passing math in college.
That placement test brought back all my hideous math memories. And hideous they are. I passed 8th grade math and then never went any higher. I remembered how stupid and ignorant I felt when I got handed back tests with those bright gleaming red F's on them. Remembered how I used to cry so hard when people, including my family, made fun of me for not knowing how to divide. For not knowing how to round numbers or even to find the area of a polygon (or whatever the fuck it was).
In every other subject I was fine or I excelled. English? Easy as pie. Science, easypeasy. But math, math made me feel stupid and dumb and like a failure. My teachers, and my parents, no one encouraged,or helped me.
As all those memories came flooding back I stopped myself. Reminded myself that, hell, so what?? I'm a big girl now, if no one is gonna offer to help me, screw 'em! I'll go get it myself!
There I was, in a class of about 8 people, all sighing through these "easy" questions. I was completely lost. So I raised my hand. Again and again and again. I stood up for myself.
And for once? For once I got help. I started understanding those "easy" principals. Because my teacher took the time to tell me how it worked again and again (also told me to stop saying I was sorry for bothering her....oops :), sitting there with me one on one sharing how she used to struggle with math as well.
I shoved all those bad memories back in their box. I will conquer this math. I am strong, I am determined.
I will not fail.
I am attending my college's free student help seminars. This week focuses on math skills (of which I freely admit I have none) so I took the opportunity to get some help on a subject that I haven't touched in years.
As I took the placement test, my confidence kept sinking. More and more questions popped up, and as I kept hitting that "I don't know" button, my spirits were in despair.
I reached the final pages, and not to my surprise, out of the 244 subjects in the math genre I was tested on, I only passed 24. I kept looking at those 0/10 or 0/67 scores and wondered how the hell I could even think about passing math in college.
That placement test brought back all my hideous math memories. And hideous they are. I passed 8th grade math and then never went any higher. I remembered how stupid and ignorant I felt when I got handed back tests with those bright gleaming red F's on them. Remembered how I used to cry so hard when people, including my family, made fun of me for not knowing how to divide. For not knowing how to round numbers or even to find the area of a polygon (or whatever the fuck it was).
In every other subject I was fine or I excelled. English? Easy as pie. Science, easypeasy. But math, math made me feel stupid and dumb and like a failure. My teachers, and my parents, no one encouraged,or helped me.
As all those memories came flooding back I stopped myself. Reminded myself that, hell, so what?? I'm a big girl now, if no one is gonna offer to help me, screw 'em! I'll go get it myself!
There I was, in a class of about 8 people, all sighing through these "easy" questions. I was completely lost. So I raised my hand. Again and again and again. I stood up for myself.
And for once? For once I got help. I started understanding those "easy" principals. Because my teacher took the time to tell me how it worked again and again (also told me to stop saying I was sorry for bothering her....oops :), sitting there with me one on one sharing how she used to struggle with math as well.
I shoved all those bad memories back in their box. I will conquer this math. I am strong, I am determined.
I will not fail.
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