So the entry I wrote the other day made me realize that I didn't have a very firm grasp on the actuality of B's system of belief/faith. I'd actually been poring over the question for days before I asked. In most situations, I immediately end up regretting asking people about faith. It tends to end badly or make me seem ignorant for being unsure what to believe. B did none of these things, instead explained to me that his morals go hand in hand with typical Judeo-Christian teachings and he believes in an all-reaching power of some sort (a god or maybe gods). He went on to say that he believes all religions are equally valid, except Scientology and Satanism, mostly because the ranks of both of those religions are populated with crazies or retards or both.

To a point, I agree completely with the statement that all religions are valid, but I dare to go so far as to include Scientology and Satanism in that statement. Whether or not the gods were created by man remains to be seen, but all religions were created by man. Period. Even the ridiculous ones. That is the reason for their equal validity. Some would argue that all religions are equally ridiculous, but that's not my agenda or concern.

B also believes it's important for everyone to experience faith, that it's vital to survival. I'm not so sure I agree. I believe faith, for the majority, is a good thing, but I'm not so certain it's a necessity.

In all my years, I can truthfully say I've never been certain of the existence of anything. I was born and raised Baptist, but my main concern was what kind of cool macaroni picture am I going to get to make in Vacation Bible School? Or I hope the other girls in my Sunday School class don't look better in their dresses than I do. Or HOLY SHIT worship services are LONG AS BALLS. I wonder how many times I can creep out to hide in the bathroom before my great aunt thinks I have a bladder infection.

For the entirety of my young life, I was taught that my thoughts and opinions on faith were wrong and sin. So I hid what I believed (more accurately, what I wasn't sure I believed) and when I stopped hiding it, it blew up in my face and caused me more grief from my family than anything I could've ever done.

My mom ranted about how she'd rather have heard I was pregnant--she was, of course, exaggerating. When the initial shock wore off, she let me be.

Then my dad found out. This wasn't by accident. Somewhere in all my vast wisdom, I thought it would be a good idea to get into a philosophical conversation with him. It started innocently enough and as soon as religion came up, I was doomed.

My grandparents (the only ones still alive, my dad's parents) were, for years and years, missionaries in Honduras. They are Baptist elite, but they have one flaw (well, my grandmother does--and she overshadows my grandfather on pretty much everything) and it is if you are not a Christian, and you do not go to church on Sundays, you are scum.

My dad, of course, spilled the beans to my grandparents and the three of them somehow plotted a revival for me. There was this thing called Harvest Fest in Athens (or maybe it was Atlanta?), GA, so they said to me, "Oooh this will be cool let's go." And my dad said to me, "This is real religion, it's interesting, not the boring stuff you've been experiencing." So. To shut everyone up once and for all, I went.

Jars of Clay played. Lots of people waved their hands in the air and were moved by the spirit. I sat there wondering when the really excited guy would stop yelling so I could go home. At one point in the spectacle, the really excited guy asked unsaved souls to come down to the floor and let Jesus into their hearts. I didn't move. My grandmother nudged me. I didn't move.

Suffice to say she was not pleased. Our conversations (few and far between) have been incredibly curt since then.

In other news, I got my hair cut. I came home and dyed it afterwards. There is a picture of it on my Myspace page, link at top.

It's growing on me.

Har har, hair pun.