Religious Experience...

So, the "Landlady" is a devout Catholic.

No biggie, I've always been open to religious discussion, and considering she's my Grandmother, I'm more inclined to not voice my more boisterous opinions. I've also been quite interested in Religion. Not so much the restrictions placed upon people by actually attending church, because I don't believe in institutionalized religion at all. You don't need to be in a building to have faith in god. (That goes along the same lines for whatever religion you are, or are not.)

Granted, I was baptized Catholic when I was just a wee babe, and I didn't really have a say in my designation of faith, but all in all, it's how you behave and think of yourself in the long run that's important, not which particular faith's god you were christened under.

The reason why I'm going on this long winded religious blab-fest, is that tonight, for the first time in YEARS, (seriously, years.) I attended church with my Grandmother.

Feeling like a complete fraud in a house of God, (Oooh! Poet and didn't know it!) is definitely not a pleasant way to feel. The reason why I went, is because today is Ash Wednesday. The first day of Lent.

I stood/sat (depending on what everyone else did) there debating in my head for almost the entire first half of the sermon, whether or not I was actually going to commit myself to a ideological concept, and sacrifice one of life's guilty pleasures to strengthen me in the long run for 40 days and 40 nights.

I did.

I'm still debating exactly WHICH guilty pleasure I should sacrifice, and I'm leaning towards fasting.

Technically it's only on Wednesdays and Fridays, which isn't too harsh. I'm allowed to eat one full meal and two snacks, and given my eating habits as of late, that's usually the common amount of food I consume in a day anyways.

Homework usually holds more precedence over eating when I'm focused.

Is it for God? Honestly, I don't even think I believe in "God." I'm the sort of person that requires actual physical PROOF of something before I choose to believe in it. I have this sinking suspicion, that God isn't going to knock on my door, and when I open it, He'll (Or she, I'm not discriminating here...) introduce himself/herself, shake my hand, and perform a miracle before me in order to make me believe.

It's more to build my character. I'm doing it to remind me that there are people out there that are suffering, that don't even get the luxury of a full meal every week, let alone every day.

It's a reminder, that I'm only human, that I take the abundance of life's pleasures in this country for granted.

I can suffer a little, if only to sympathize with people that are in much worse situations. It's a reminder that in the end, when I die, I'll turn back to dust, the same as the people that are starving in third world countries when they die. We all end up in the same boat, so why don't we try walking in the other persons shoes?

I was contemplating giving up sex, but honestly, (and quite unfortunately) I don't get it often enough for it to be a real sacrifice. If that was the case, I've already gone over the amount of time allotted for Lent, and that was by choice.

Well... Mostly by choice. However, there's not much of an offering for attractive, intelligent, appealing (to me) men in this city anymore. I'm somewhat disheartened by that whole fact, but I'm not going to wither up and die from not fucking someone. (As much as I might complain.)

Anyways, it's horridly late, and I must retire to the boudoir.

Adios muchachos.

Linds.