kdiddy.org

http://www.pittsburghpulp.com/content/2003/04_10/arts_dance.shtml

woot.
(you'll have to scroll down a bit.)

I'm attempting to clean up the havoc that my son has wreaked over the past few days. There is no hope for the Jenga box. The blocks are going to have to sit, ghetto-style, in a big Ziploc bag. We've only played it once because it's this really dumb truth-or-dare version.
I'm about to do something silly so if you don't have a job or have one that doesn't require your undivided attention or are looking to waste time and brain cells:

GET YOUR SALVATION ON

Through a smattering of spruce trees way off of Cranberry?s main drag, Victory Christian Fellowship can be seen from the darkness and silence of Freedom Road. Several large floodlights illuminate the long, grey, metallic building. Despite the view, actually getting to the building requires ten extra minutes of travel through Cranberry Township?s back roads and taking a sharp right onto Mystic Pine Trail that makes unsuspecting tires screech. Inside, Shift Saturdays, VCF?s weekly alternative to the bar scene that is geared to the 18-24/MTV demographic is beginning.

# # #

Inside the church, two sets of heavy wooden double doors open onto the main room. Rows upon rows of padded seats are pristinely arranged, all pointed toward a slightly raised stage. At the back of the stage, two plastic Corinthian Greek columns tower over the drum set and the guitars sitting beneath them. No one seems to glance up at the columns from time to time to wonder what the hell they are doing there, but they should. This church is, after all, in Cranberry Township; miles away from any place where Greek columns would be expected. To say that they are architecturally incongruent would be putting it mildly.
The lights in the main room are turned all the way down. The only light comes from a spotlight which is stationed at the back of the room and is shining on a woman who is seated at a small table on the stage. She is talking to the young parishioners who are sitting in the pristinely arranged, padded seats.
?I think I?ve talked to most of the people here,? she says, slowly turning her knuckles white as she strangles an innocent microphone and shooting a quick glance with her droopy Hush Puppy eyes at the audience in front of her.
?Um, and that?s against my personality. Like, if I could, I wouldn?t say a word to anybody. Ha-ha.? Her nervous laugh is echoed by the parishioners in attendance this evening. ?I?d just sit in a corner and praise God and?happy day! I?d be great.?
This nervous woman on the stage has an inconsistent Southern accent. It mostly lies dormant until she says words like ?against? and ?could.? Then the drawl comes out to stretch and twang the word and make it sound gooey, almost like taffy being pulled.
She has two nervous ticks: pushing her mouse-brown and dash-of-pepper hair behind her right ear and scratching her nose at regular, 10-second intervals.
?But I know that God has a bigger calling on my life.?
The non-committal Southerner pushes back her hair.
?So I force myself to say hi and shake your hand and say, ?Hi, I?m Dee. How did you hear of Shift and what?s going on in your life???
Non-committal Southerner Dee scratches her nose.
?I?m leaving; I?m leaving in about five days,? says Dee, stressing the word ?leaving? by leaning into the microphone with her chin.
?And I want to know that I left a legacy behind, and I did what God called me to do.? Dee turns to the stack of papers that are sitting on the table beside her and shuffles through them, finally settling on one.
?Um, so let me give you a couple of things that you can do here?um?there?s ushers, greeters, information center, Power Point, altar call team, set up, tear down, website stuff.? Dee pauses and looks up from the paper she?s reading.
?And I know, you guys, there?s people out there who are just computer freaks. They love the computer?Kim Roser?s one of them.? Dee, with her mouth curled into a large, teasing grin, shoots her Hush Puppy eyes toward a woman sitting in the front row.
?Ha-ha, I love the look that she gave me. But there are places for you guys to get involved. And in order to develop and grow and allow God to promote you to better things, you need to put your hand to the plow.? Dee gives her audience a crooked smile and places the microphone on the table. A smattering of applause from the parishioners swells to cheers and whoops as she finishes her call to mission work.
A young man in a white shirt and blue jeans walks up to the stage and puts his arm around Dee. He nods and pats Dee on the shoulder. Dee scans the Hush Puppies up at him as if to say, ?It?s very nice of you to pat me on the shoulder.?
?How about we have all of our greeters, all of our volunteers, all of our team members, if you could come up now, I want to have a prayer for Dee,? says the young man, waving his arm in a Bob Barker manner.
Twenty people stand up out of the audience of about 200 or so, most notably a tall, stunningly attractive young woman. Her light brown hair is springing out of her head in long, fusilli pasta spirals. As she makes her way to the stage, the fusilli spirals bounce and sway. Her long legs have been poured into a pair of tight blue jeans and her red lipstick has been applied quite carefully onto her cherubic lips.
As the volunteers and other team members gather around Dee, Fusilli Pasta places her right hand on Dee?s shoulder and bows her head, sending the spirals swinging.
?Father, we pray for Dee right now,? says the nice young man in blue jeans. ?God, we thank you that she?s entering another phase of life.?

# # #

When you think about it, churches are kind of like the first chain corporations. Many years ago, when pilgrims first landed in New England with the grand idea of stretching their religious legs, churches started popping up in America. Soon, as more types of religions settled in America, and as the march to the West progressed, churches of every shape, size, and faith could be found. Now, no matter where you are or what deity you answer to, a church or temple or other house of worship is usually readily available.

# # #

At the end of the prayer ?Amen?s? are shouted from everyone in the congregation. The nice young man, Ryan Phipps, indicates to his fellow members of the band Soulharmonic that they should quit leaning against the wall and get on stage.
The drummer squeezes between a Greek column and the Plexiglas enclosure that holds his drums. Ryan begins to absentmindedly pluck his acoustic guitar.
?Before we begin, I just want to ask everyone to turn around to the person behind them and say hello, introduce yourself,? says Ryan.
?Hi, I?m Sharon. How are ya?? says a plump, bespectacled woman in her late twenties with well-manicured nails. Sharon grasps an empty coffee cup as she shakes hands with the people around her.
Plenty of giggles can be heard as friends jokingly reintroduce themselves: ?Hiiiiiiii! It?s soooooooooooo nice to meet you. Teeheehee.?
Soulharmonic begin their first song of the evening as the congregation claps along:
?Your love oh Lord/Reaches to the heavens. /Your faithfulness/Stretches to the sky. /Your righteousness/is like the mighty mountains/Your justice flows like the ocean?s tide.?
Three large screens behind the band have illuminated. While the two on the sides show images of doves, mountains, and oceans, the middle screen is the arena for a Power Point presentation of the song?s lyrics. This, of course, makes it easier for everyone to sing along.
Sharon sets her coffee cup down and raises both of her arms toward the heavens. Her eyes close and she sways back and forth.
?Let?s sing that one again,? instructs Ryan. Sharon happily obliges, singing louder than before and whispering ?yes, Lord? in between verses.
?I will lift my voice/to worship You, my King/I will find my strength/in the shelter of Your trees.?
The two verses are repeated several times, with Ryan experimenting with contretemps on words like ?justice.? This only trips up the congregation, who are loudly singing along with him, so he stops.
As the song comes to a close, both Ryan and Sharon let their voices warble with emotion on the last ?trees.? Ryan manages to hold the note a few counts longer than Sharon.
There are only a few seconds of silence in between the first song and the beginning of the second, ?Hungry.? Sharon takes those few seconds to drop her arms back down to the sides of her khaki pants to take a rest. She also fidgets with the hem of her navy blue button-down shirt.
Suddenly, the unmistakable opening notes of U2?s ?With or Without You? fill the room. The band is not playing them live; it is coming from a recording. For a second, it seems possible that Soulharmonic might do a cover of that passionate hit, but with a Christian twist.
Instead, the notes fade into the background as Soulharmonic play ?Hungry.? Sharon?s eyes again turn to the middle screen so that she can sing along.
?Lord I want more of you/Living water rain down on me/Lord I need more of you/Living breath of life come and fill me up.?
Sharon?s arms are back in the air, her eyes closed when she has a grasp of the lyrics. Her swaying commences.
?We are hungry, we are hungry, we are hungry for more of you/we are thirsty, oh Jesus, we are thirsty for more of you.?
Ryan spares no emotion for this song. Throwing his head back, he adds an extra, ?Thirsty for more of you!?
Sharon has strategically decided to switch from swaying her arms to clapping her hands. She is singing louder than before as the song comes to its climax.
Ryan can?t take it anymore. He lets loose with, ?Fill me uuuuuuuppp! Fill me uuuuuuuuuuuuppp! Fill me uuuuuuuuuuuupppppp! Fill me uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuppppp!?
Sharon attempts one of Ryan?s emotive ?fill me up?s? but her voice sputters out when she realizes that she just does not have his vocal abilities.
Ryan commands, ?Come on, guys, let?s reach out for Him tonight.? He decides to end with a very Bono-like, ?Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Oooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhh!? He?s going for some of that famous Hibernian?s Joshua Tree-era crooning, but instead he comes off more like a pubescent Neil Diamond.

# # #

In the same way that there was the need for, as an example, a Catholic person to be able to walk into any Catholic church in America and know what kind of service to expect, Americans began to find comfort in the uniformity of commerce, as well. Chain restaurants boast the same menus, the same atmosphere, the same fake vintage decorations, the same uniforms, the same prices, and practically the same, smiling, saccharin staff. A T.G.I. Friday?s devotee can walk into a T.G.I. Friday?s in San Francisco and find the same Jack Daniels-marinated chicken and Ultimate Strawberry Banana Colada that he adores at his regular Friday?s in Boston. No surprises, no disappointments.

# # #

As Soulharmonic are finishing ?Hungry,? Pastor John Nuzzo is sneaking into the seat at the table at the front of the stage where Dee sat a short time ago. The members of the congregation sit in their seats as the Power Point screen switches over to display the main points of Nuzzo?s sermon. The two screens on the side are now displaying the rather short Nuzzo in bigger-than-life picture.
?We?re going to talk about absolutes tonight,? says Nuzzo, stretching his muscular arms and placing his red travel mug off to the side. ?Is God?s Word an option?an opinion? Or is it the absolute foundation that we build our lives on?? Behind him the Power Point screen flashes a bulleted list that says:
?- God?s Word
-Option?
-Opinion?
-Absolutes
-Foundation of life!?
Looking into the young eyes staring back at him, Nuzzo begins to tell the young congregation about the state of their age group.
?A survey was given to people 25 and under who identify themselves as Christians. They were asked, ?Is premarital sex always wrong?? You know what they said?? asks Nuzzo, pausing for effect. ?Almost half of them, 48 percent, said that that statement was too harsh, that sometimes premarital sex is right! Only about 15 percent agreed with that absolute.?
The Power Point screen is displaying a pie chart of the survey results, indicating the 48 percent by an alarming red chunk of the pie. The 15 percent are indicated by a calmer blue.
?You know, your age group is called the ?post-moderns.? I don?t know where they got that name from but that?s what you?re called. Anyway, at this time, you guys have access to so much knowledge?I mean, knowledge has just gone nuts!? Nuzzo looks over at a young parishioner who is typing furiously into his laptop.
?I mean, look at Keith over here. He?s got this computer just sitting in his lap.? Keith looks up from the light blue glow of his laptop and glances around, unsure if he is in trouble for something.
?Thanks for pointing that out,? jokes Keith, sheepishly. Nuzzo smiles and waves a dismissing hand at Keith?s embarrassment.
?Back when computers were first being developed, it would take a machine the size of this entire building to get the amount of power and memory that Keith has just sitting in his lap right now.?
Sharon lets out a low whistle and looks at the bottom of her coffee cup for dregs to swallow.
?Hey, look, knowledge is great,? says Nuzzo, standing up from the table, bringing his coffee mug with him. ?I?m not trying to say otherwise. I just want you guys to realize that knowledge and changing opinions?folks your age are starting to build your lives on them. You?re building your lives on things that don?t support them.?
Nuzzo recites an appropriate Bible verse, which is, of course, also displayed on the Power Point screen.

# # #

When the service is over, the congregation moves toward the back of the room where several urns of coffee are sitting on a table. The ushers and greeters and team members who were praying for Dee earlier are now at work, seeking out newcomers and, well, greeting them.
?Hi, I?m Dana,? says a young woman with bottle-blonde hair and perfectly applied foundation. She has a firm handshake and lifts her left hand to her face or chin quite often, presumably to display the sizable diamond ring that she wears on her ring finger.
?I?m married to the guy that was singing,? says Kathy, in a mostly friendly ?for-your-information? tone of voice. It seems possible that she?s had to fend off a Soulharmonic groupie or two in her day.
?So, what did you think of the service?? asks Kathy, her eyebrows arching into question marks.
?Where are you from?? she asks, lowering the eyebrows and leaning the right side of her head closer so she can hear.
?Ahhh?and how did you hear about us?? she asks, this time lowering and scrunching her eyebrows together as a sign of her committed inquisitiveness.
?Great?well, if you have any questions, just find me. I?ll be happy to answer them.? Kathy leaves to chase two little girls who have materialized from the private kitchen area of the church.

# # #

?Hi, I?m Sara,? says another young woman whose chestnut hair is cut into angles that frame her face.
?So, what did you think of the service?? Her eyebrows arch into the VCF trademark question marks.
?Awesome?Where are you from?? Her eyebrows lower and she leans her head to the right.
?Oh, cool?So, how did you hear about us?? Her eyebrows lower and scrunch.
?That?s awesome. Well, listen, here?s my card.? She grabs a small business card out of her Triple Five Soul messenger bag and then hikes the bag onto her shoulder.
?If you have any questions, please email me or something.?

# # #

?Hi, I?m Shannon,? says the girl with the fusilli pasta hair. She?s thrown a denim jacket over her shoulders and is toting an enormous purse.
?So, what did you think of the service?? The eyebrows arch.
?Sweet?Where are you from?? The eyebrows lower.
?Cool?So, how did you hear about us?? The eyebrows lower and scrunch.
?Oh, that?s so cool?Well, if you have any questions, I?ll be around.?

# # #

?Hi, I?m Dana.? This particular greeter has the same shade of bottle-blonde hair as Kathy and the same perfectly applied foundation. She has a huge smile and a set of clear braces that are helping her to perfect it. These are more noticeable than she probably realizes due to her tendency to get very close to the person with whom she is speaking.
?So, what did you think of the service?? The eyebrows arch.
?Good, good?and where are you from?? The eyebrows lower.
?Oh, right, right, I know where that is?So, how did you hear about us?? The eyebrows lower and scrunch.
?Awesome, awesome. Well, if you have any questions, feel free to ask me.? Dana scurries over to a group of greeters, her burgundy sweater-jacket flowing out behind her.

# # #

The gift shop is VCF?s version of Barnes & Noble Booksellers. It does not have the scale or variety of Barnes & Noble, but it makes a valiant effort.
A display table immediately inside the entrance holds videotapes of Pastor John Nuzzo?s sermons on sexuality. They are on special for $18.99.
Scanning the bookshelves, nearly any topic that you might find in Barnes & Noble is here in VCF?s gift shop, but with a Christian spin: Losing Weight with Jesus: Learning to Love the Body God Gave You; The Rules of Dating; The Rules of Marriage; Sex in the Eyes of God.
Youth-oriented items also abound, including a small metal book. The cover has the outline of the top of a soda can. Above the outline, the word ?Thirsty?? is etched into the metal. The pop of a magnet on the side of the book reveals a small Bible nestled into the metal covers.
The young woman working the cash register pulls on the shoulders of her cream-colored sweater and fusses with her curly hair and glasses.
?Take your time,? she insists, as she turns off the lights in the display case in front of her.
A young man with pierced ears and brown hair with pink streaks walks in and takes a seat near the display case. The cashier blushes when he enters.
?Hi John,? she says, forcing a trembling smile.
?Hi Karen!? says a girl entering the gift shop on her way out. She notices the blush on the cashier?s face and glances over at John.
?Is that your boyfriend, Karen?? she asks, teasing the now fiercely blushing cashier.
?Yeah,? says Karen, giggling and trying to scoff at her own embarrassment while John barely takes the time to look up. ?We?re totally dating.?
?But not having sex, right?? giggles Karen?s friend.
?Right,? says Karen. At this point her face is so red it looks as though it might explode.
It is hard to tell if the girls are being sarcastic about Nuzzo?s message of abstinence or not.

# # #

?Hey, are you guys coming to Denny?s?? asks Shannon, tossing her fusilli hair over her shoulder. ?Awesome! You can follow my car. I have that black Grand Prix over there.?
Cars exiting the VCF parking lot will not be able to miss a sign posted near a cluster of reformed school buses. It reads, ?YOU ARE NOW ENTERING THE MISSION FIELD.?

# # #

Cranberry Township boasts nearly every kind of chain store that one might need, from clothing to food to cars. Driving into the town is to be bombarded with neon signs bearing familiar logos. Everything is new and formulaic, right down to the houses and the people.
While the parishioners at Victory Christian Fellowship act very similar to each other, wear similar, Abercrombie & Fitch clothes, and believe in a common set of ideals, they seem to find a great degree of comfort in all of that sameness.

# # #

The black Grand Prix reenters the neon commercial paradise of Cranberry?s main business district. Shannon gets out and tosses her fusilli pasta hair around a few times. She waits in the parking lot for a few friends of hers from the church and then heads inside to Denny?s.
The church members who have already arrived have claimed a large, long table in the center of the dining room directly off of the kitchen. The overflow members are directed to three booths in close proximity to the main table.
?We used to go to Eat N Park every week,? explains Shannon. ?But we?ve just recently switched to Denny?s. We?re still getting used to it. It?s kind of a big change.?
As the church members order gallons of Coke and Diet Coke, they continue to wear the same, permanent smiles that they were wearing at the church as they greeted people. Laughing comes a bit easier, though. Especially since the designated church clown has decided to kill some time while waiting for his hash browns.
The Church Clown is skinny and attempts to make up for this fact by wearing a baggy grey sweater. He frequently gets up from his seat to make a loud joke. He is older than most of the congregation in attendance tonight, probably in his early 30?s.
He spots Dana sitting down at one of the booths and begins teasing her boyfriend.
?Hey, Chris! I need you to discipline her!? he yells across the dining room. Dana bares her braces in a large, embarrassed smile while her boyfriend guffaws at the joke. The Church Clown is obviously pleased with his reaction as he bounds over to the table to tease them more directly. Dana and Chris continue to laugh at him even when he walks away.
The Church Clown gets to his table and starts to sit down when he sees that his hash browns have arrived.
?Where are my biscuits?? yells Dana, growing impatient with the slow service at Denny?s. Perhaps the switch from Eat N Park was not such a great idea, after all.
The Church Clown stands up and yells back, ?Who?s talking about my biscuits?? and slaps both of his butt cheeks for the punch line. Dana loses it and dissolves into giggles.
At another booth, Shannon and her friends bow their heads in prayer.
?Amen,? they mutter in unison before gobbling up the French fries and burgers that the Lord has provided.
Another man, Eric, is making the rounds from table to table, talking to people he knows and introducing himself to people he doesn?t.
?Hi, I?m Eric,? he says, pulling a chair up to the table and turning it around so he can straddle it.
?So, how did you like the service?? The eyebrows arch.

Yeah, I know. It's long as fuck. I just thought it might be worth posting. I welcome criticism, but nothing harsh, like, “take your hands off the keyboard, moron!” or something.
I have to pee.

So, I finished my paper. It clocked in at 3,800 words, 3,000 of those were required. I was sitting here at around 4:30 p.m. yesterday scrolling through and scrolling through trying to find stuff to cut but I just couldn't look at it anymore. I just emailed it to my teacher and thought, “Fiddle dee dee.” I have until Monday to revise anything from this semester so I'll probably chop some of that off and touch up my profile of the PAAI gal. That reminds me, I need to call her today to see if I can traipse around Garfield with her this weekend.
I'm feeling a huge sense of relief, even though I'm not really done with school yet. Monday I can heave a deep sigh and actually mean it. Although I don't think I'll be very relieved until I have my diploma in my hand. Monday is my last undergraduate class ever and that's just taking my emotions for a ride. College has been such a huge part of my life for so long and now it's just over. How strange. I think I take the whole thing to heart a lot more than most people, though. A lot of people think that college is just something that you do, that you have to do, or that it's a huge racket that's forced down our throats nowadays. And in a way, all of those statements are true. I think because I went into college after the hugest failure of my life (ballet) it feels good to actually finish something, to succeed at it. I don't know, I'm sure there are many more deep psychological/societal reasons why I'm feeling so accomplished but who wants to read about that crap? Not me. Besides, you know as well as I do that when I don't end up with the QPA I was hoping for I'm going to be back on here whining that I failed at college. I'm just going to start smacking myself now.
Yesterday we took the baby to the pediatrician. We decided to just grit our teeth and pay out of pocket for the visit and the immunizations since he still doesn't have a social security number or insurance. We were anticipating a $200-something bill but apparently the state has this program in place that if your kid is temporarily uninsured they'll just cover the cost of the shots and charge an administration fee, which I guess is for the nurse who actually does the injecting. So we only ended up paying $93. Not bad, considering.
The baby has grown a couple of inches and gained a little less than pound. He's still in like the fourth percentile for his weight. Skinny. His doctor said that developmentally he's doing really well and that his speech is advanced for his age! The shots were a little traumatic and he cried for a really long time. The complete opposite of the last time we were there and they did the blood test. He didn't even flinch for that. Weird.
They were giving out free samples at the doctor's office of this formula for toddlers. I think that sounds like a racket but I don't really trust those formula companies. We took it anyway because it came in this cute little bag that I can use for the baby's…lunch or toys or something. You can't really contain a woman when it comes to a free bag.
I have a bunch of housewifey stuff to do today like laundry and tidying up the room where my computer is. Since I had so much work to do the past couple of days I've just sort of let the baby run wild in here. Now it's a total wreck.
I'm working on details for the friends portion of my graduation party. I've decided to have the formal thing at the University Club be just for family and then to have the gang over to my house. I'm excited because I haven't thrown a party in a long time. It should be fun but a lot of the “gang” members have become stodgy old bitches. I'm sure there will be drama but I think I'll borrow a stun gun or something from my cousin the constable. that should keep everyone in line. Of course, I don't even think he gets any weapons issued to him. But I'm sure he could hook me up. He has to know some crooked cops from all of those evictions that he does.
On the diet front: since February 25 I've lost 8 pounds. Not bad, but I'm trying to kick things into high gear now. Since I'm sort of almost over the hump, school-wise I should be able to indulge in more mindless activities like exercise. Totally.
Alright, my kid's getting mad at me for ignoring him and responding my trying to break the window with the rocking chair…don't ask.

1,238 words out of the required 3,000. Keep in mind, that this is a revision. But I have a lot of new stuff that I have to work in there, along with a lot of old stuff that I have to take out. I fucking hate this.
Right now, I'm obviously just moping around the Internet looking for a distraction.

The Big Paper. I have to do it tonight. I can't even bring myself to look at it. I don't want to do it. I just can't get through this last hurdle of college. I want to curl up under my desk and die.

The whole Daylight Savings thing has definitely screwed us up. The baby was uncharacteristically resistant to a nap this afternoon. Eventually, after sitting with him to both Carl Craig and Brian Eno mp3's, I decided the best route would be to put him in his crib while I took my shower. He fussed for awhile but now I hear him sleeping away over the baby monitor. I was having a ton of trouble waking up this morning. I was beat. I think it's just that time of year where stress just gets to me and makes me shut down for a little while, whether I have time for it or not.
Yesterday was my aunt's 74th birthday which meant that a sizable chunk of my loud family came to our house for cake and champagne way too early in the day. Esquire says that girls from big families are more fun and that may be, but I sure wasn't the picture of pleasantness when I was trying to finish my piece for Pulp and had to fend off my pretentious (but lovable) Uncle Jimmy who wouldn't shut up about that crap Far From Heaven from the moment he walked in the door. My Uncle Jimmy is definitely my strangest relative. It's not that his life is very peculiar but he has all of these personality quirks that just strike me as insane. He's generally a snob and likes to talk a lot of shit about things like Italian Neo-Realist films, opera, and literature. Since he and I happen to share a lot of the same artistic interests he's always looking to strike up a conversation, which is fine, but I tend to disagree with him on just about everything. He also has this annoying prejudice that any music produced after 1960 is utter garbage, but whatever. He also has this habit of grabbing the arm of whoever he's talking to in order to ensure their complete attention. And a kiss goodbye from him is never a simple peck on the cheek. It's always this loud production that involves the recipient getting up close and personal with his nicotine stench and perma-stubble. Anyway.
I'm also getting annoyed that, due to my big family, someone is constantly having a birthday/anniversary/birth/christening/death/whatever involving lots of high-calorie food that I can't eat. I'm eying this saucy dress I'm trying to fit into around graduation time and I can't take the distraction.
So my trip to the Creepy Christian Church in Cranberry was very interesting. I went with the Little Sister, her friend Sarah, and Tricia. It was an odd group and I still can't quite believe we came together for such a strange activity. We listened to the usual sermon about how pitiful gay people are and shit. Afterward, the hip, young members of the church, undoubtedly drawn to us by our piercings and “outrageous” hair colors, were way too eager to meet us. They generally asked three questions: What did you think of the service? Where are you from? How did you hear about us? To which we vaguely replied: Nice. Pittsburgh. Pulp. After I was home I started having these visions of Pulp getting flooded with propaganda from Victory Christian Fellowship. (By the way, Shanley and whoever else Pulp-affiliated who reads this: if that does happen I'm really sorry.)
The people there were pleasant enough, but in a Stepford Wives kind of way. Very glazed, permanent smiles, very cheery and very encouraging of us to join them…join them…join them.
By some lapse of my sanity I decided to join them for post-light-gay-bashing vittles at Denny's. That was just weird. And they all talk about Christian sex just way too much. Sluts.
Well, I'm starved and the kitchen is a mess, mostly due to the sopping wet New York Times spread out on the floor to dry. That didn't stop me from reading more about SARS and getting a little freaked out.
Alright, I'm going to pass out soon.

I was able to sleep in today, which I really needed. I've gotten less and less sleep over the past week and a half. Today I actually feel well-rested.
My mother is pissed at me for some undiscernable reason. We keep bickering lately. Every time we do I keep thinking, “Now I remember why us living together is such a bad idea.” We're usually fine when we're not sharing living space. When we are…have you ever heard that saying, “No kitchen is big enough for two women?” Sexist, I know, but there's a kernel of truth in it, at least as far as my mother and I go. We just both have different living styles and the two don't always mesh.
I went to the creepy church again last night with quite the motley crew. I'll write more about that later.

I'm having a day that is much more stressful than yesterday.
A couple of things are going on. The article that I'm writing for Pulp was going pretty good but I can't get in touch with the other lady I'm trying to interview at all. I don't know what the deal is. So I've just been sort of casually working on it (even though I wanted to have it done this afternoon) and I'm slowly realizing something: I suck at writing. Seriously. I think I have like three or four cliches in the first paragraph alone. And I started out with a quote which is such a gay thing to do. ergh.
The social security thing continues to get wackier. They sent me an application in the mail today but they're saying that they want me to send them the baby's original birth certificate. Considering the “Oh-we-just-didn't-process-your-application-we-don't-know-why” crap we just went through I don't know how I feel about just sending them my son's birth certificate. I guess I'm going to have to just go back to the SS office in E. Liberty but…are they broken? It seems silly to go back to a place that is as ineffectual as that place.
My camera has been broken for quite some time. I took it to this camera repair place on the N. Side but it was going to cost way too much to get it repaired. In the meantime, I found this extended service plan from Ritz that allows some free repairs. So my mom was nice enough to drop it off there today. The repair will still be free but it's going to take 6-8 weeks. Why does shit always slow to a crawl around me?
The church thing for my Nonfiction 2 class is also causing me much stress. Stacey forgot that we were going there tonight and decided to take an impromptu road trip to Richmond. So I was scrambling around trying to find another companion/ride out there. I've convinced the boyfriend's sister to take me as a thank you for getting her some books out of Hillman Library. But I am going to hook her up with some Krispy Kreme afterward and I told her that there would be hot young Christian boys there. I think that titillated her.
Today I've mostly been running around screaming about the lack of diet food in the house, which is compounded by the fact that the boyfriend and I are both broke.
My fingers are tired.
Fin.

My son figured out how to take his pants off. He's walking around now on his little chicken legs looking very proud of himself. What a goofball.

I posted a while back about how Medicaid cancelled the baby's insurance because he didn't have a Social Security Number. I may have also mentioned that I applied for his Social Security Number about a month ago. They told me that it wouldn't take longer than 30 days. Today, when the mail came and I still hadn't received his number I decided to see what was up. I called and found out that they just never processed my application for whatever reason. They couldn't even explain it. I asked why that would have happened and was it because of something I had done wrong and they said no, everything had been in order the application had just never been processed. So I have to reapply. In the meantime, I can't get insurance for my son so if something happens to him and I have to take him to the hospital we're all fucked. I'm extremely disappointed and angry with the government in general. I'm considering contacting the local Senator and tell him about what's been going on. There's really no excuse for this.