Sunday, September 25, 2011

The Giving of Hearts


     I’ve told you, I believe, of my family’s experience in an abusive church, and of the faulty philosophies we picked up there. I’ve told you how easy it is to start feeling guilty about things that really aren’t that bad. Today I shall list another of those things. This one is special, though, because it’s the only thing that ever really got to me.
   

   See, my personality fit beautifully with the ideal. I was a girl who liked to stay home, cook, clean, and watch children. I like history and I read a lot. I was a good girl, so there were few things that I neglected and were thus made to feel guilty about. Anyway, this thing I’m talking about was the one thing that for the life of me I simply couldn't manage. The one thing that every girl was supposed to do or else dire consequences would ensue (hey, I’m a poet!).

   I am speaking, of course, of giving my heart to my parents.
 
    I’m sure you’re familiar with this idea. The Heart is a very big deal, and according to the rules I learned there, no girl is allowed at any time to be the possessor of her own heart. A definition would perhaps be helpful here. The way I see it, the heart that you are supposed to

Sunday, September 18, 2011

Jesus Called Me Daughter

“No, it’s true. I swear. Hand to God, I swear.”
“God doesn’t want to see your hand!”
— Monk

     I don’t know how often this happens to you, but for some reason I keep getting weird songs stuck in my head with alarming frequency. And even though I’m not very good at it, I sing all the time, so my entire family (and, occasionally, the entire grocery store) is treated to the lyrics of a song that runs along the lines of, “Bananas, bananas, they’re sitting on my fridge!” The latest entry in this disturbing lineup goes like this: “No, I don’t wear pants! (Slap those thighs) No, I don’t wear pants! (Don’t apologize) Just take a look at Lance and how he won the Tour de France, no pants!” I could go on, but I suspect that you are already considering leaving my blog and moving on to pursuits more worthy of your time. I only mention it because it was on a YouTube video by my favorite comedian in the entire world, Wheezy Waiter, and in that video was a line that made me think. And, of course, laugh.

      One of his clones (inside joke; long time in explaining) stepped into the room and announced blithely, “I’m not wearin’ any pants!” And indeed, he was not (which, oddly, was not nearly as disturbing as it should have been). Wheezy Waiter grimaced in disgust, commanding the clone to remain fully clothed. “Ugh, gross. Put some pants on. Nobody wants to see

Monday, September 12, 2011

He Little Knew the Vengeance That Awaited Him

     Kids are awesome. They are way smarter than most of us give them credit for. Everything they do is either hilarious or interesting. I was at the playground with the two children I babysit the other day, and this was brought home to me again when I witnessed this little drama unfolding before my eyes.

     The boy was about ten years old, and he was a little different from the other children. I can’t exactly put my finger on it, but something about him was just not the same. He was a little slow, and his face bore traces of the lonely and resentful expression of a child that is never quite understood. He liked to shout at the others, and the small ones were afraid of him (with the exception of the two-year-old girl I babysit, who treated him with queenly indifference). I had to tell him off, myself, for yelling at and frightening my small charges. He acted rashly, however, when he scared a little four-year-old girl. She ran off, crying, to seek solace from her older sister and her three friends.

      Well, I could have told him he’d made a mistake.