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Tex Commando

I'm not angry, just outspoken

Tag Archives: imaginary

I’m funny.

I’m clever.

I’m cool.

I’m bold.

I’m full of energy.

I don’t gossip.

I don’t give a shit.

In reality

I stay annoyed when I should just tell you that you bug the shit outta me.

I try too hard.

I don’t try hard enough.

I talk about people.

I worry that I don’t do enough.

I get overwhelmed and shut down.

I’m lazy.

Is your reality really real? Is the story you are telling yourself really the truth? And now, as I sit here and write those two questions, I question my own perception of my thoughts and reality. Damn! I really need to get out of my brain.

(How many times does one person really need to say really?)


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When we were active churchy mormons, I’d get out of Tooth Fairy duties on Sunday. It was the sabbath, after all. That worked for three kids. The fourth kid lost a tooth this past Sunday. I decided that I wasn’t going to invoke the sabbath in between sips of wine, so with full intentions of fulfilling my toothly fairy duties, I sent Vivian to bed. Mimi took great care to remind me. She made sure to remind Homie too.

Guess who didn’t show up? Guess who cried?  Guess who perpetuated the lie?

(I hate myself a little bit for lying to my kid about the tooth fairy and santa and all of that shit.)

So, I made an excuse for the tooth fairy. I told Viv that she must have had a lot of children to take care of. To which she replied that maybe the tooth fairy is a ‘he’. Immediately, this image flashed in my mind:

Except imagine him in tights.

Consoled, my little feminist decided to give it another try. Guess who forgot? Guess who tried to pull the ‘ol “Look what fell behind the bed” trick? Luckily, I stopped him from doing damage control which would have caused more damage.

After the kids all went to school, Homie came up with this:

Dear Vivian,

I understand that you have been upset that you haven’t received a visit from me after losing a tooth. I do apologize for it taking so long to get to you. You see, there is only so much magic in the world at any one time. Normally there is plenty for me to get to things quickly, but around Christmastime, the North Pole draws heavily on the magic. There has been a bit of a shortage this week before Christmas and it has taken me a little longer than I would have liked to come retrieve your tooth. I even have had to resort to working some during the day! Anyway, I finally made it and I hope you are not too disappointed. Have a Merry Christmas and remember to take good care of those adult teeth that take the place of those you are losing.


Tooth Fairy

If it doesn’t work, I’m going to come clean.

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I never have been. I guess you could say I grew up Catholic. I did the first Holy Communion thing, but that was really it. I attended CCD for a year or two, but I had no idea what anything meant. We went to church on Easter occasionally. Then they built a new Baptist church right down the street from our house. We stopped going to mass, and started going there. And by going there, I mean the one time a year.

I didn’t grow up in a home where we talked about God. Well, that’s not true. We said, “Oh my God!” pretty frequently, so I guess we called upon God all the time. But I don’t think that’s the same. We spoke of Jesus in quite the same way. As in, “Jesus Christ! You’ve gotten big!” So, I knew that God and Jesus had something to do with one another. I knew the Christmas story, but that’s all it was to me. Just a story.

The first time I had to officially declare my religion was when I joined the Army. They make you tell them so they can put it on your id tags. Ya know, in case you get killed so they can give you a proper burial. Well shit! I didn’t know what to say. So I said Atheist. I didn’t believe in God, at least I didn’t think I did. So what ? I did go to church during basic training, though. Know why?

  1. It got me out of extra chores around the barracks.
  2. I got to talk to the guys in the other companies. (1993, female and male companies were segregated)
  3. Drill sergeants weren’t all up in our asses.

Fast forward 5 years. I’m married and expecting my second child. My husband and I decide we need God in our lives. We both ended up joining the Mormons. I had to be taught about everything about Jesus. I was completely clueless. I didn’t understand it. At. All. It didn’t really make sense to me. I didn’t have any faith. I didn’t know how to have faith. Then they told me about the parable of the mustard seed in Alma 32. I decided that it was good enough to just want to believe in it.  I mean, why not? I was supposed to believe in God, wasn’t I? I hadn’t ever even imagined any of the stuff the missionaries were told me. As of that point, I believed this: You’re born, you live, you die. That’s it. That was all I knew. That was all I had ever experienced. So we joined. It worked for us for a long time. You’ve read the old blog? Right? No? Why the hell not? 1, 2, 3.

I guess the point of all this is that I don’t think I ever really believed in ‘God’. It just never made sense to me that there is some heavenly being out there that is keeping tabs on the good things and the bad things I do in my life. And if I don’t do the right good things, then I will be punished and eternally tormented. I can’t wrap my head around the belief that there is an imaginary person who controls the world and its people and their lives. I always had a problem with the micromanaging Mormon god. (I read that term on someone’s blog and I can’t remember who) I mean, does god really care how many earrings I wear, how many tattoos I have, what kind of underwear I wear? Doesn’t he have more important things to worry about?

And I don’t believe in Santa either. I mean, Satan. Sorry. ‘Tis the Christmas season. Oh yeah, Satan. I don’t believe that shit either. Really? There’s this evil spirit that is on the prowl to capture souls and drag men around with his evil heavy chains making them submit to his will. Yeah, ok, suuure.

So, I’m not religious. I don’t believe in god. Big fuckin’ deal. You should be glad that you’re friends with someone who makes choices based on her own conscience, and not because it would make the god happy. You should also be glad that you know someone who takes responsibility for her own choices and actions, and doesn’t blame satan  for the ‘sinful‘ things she does and feels. Also, be glad that you have a friend who is open  minded, nonjudgemental (unless you use old t-shirts to wipe your ass), uninhibited, and real.

I don’t care if you are Mormon. I don’t care if you believe in god. I don’t care if you believe in faries that live in your garden. Are you honest? Are you kind? Are you respectful? I care if you can answer yes to those questions. That’s what really matters to me. What matters to you?

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