bawk bawk

Wow, I am a chicken. I didn’t tell my parents about wanting to go see a therapist. I think it’ll be best if I wait to talk to them each alone. Every time I thought about telling them something happened to interrupt my thoughts or somebody said something else. I can’t help but wonder if the whole situation might be defused if I have a vehicle of my own and didn’t need to depend upon them for transportation everywhere. I’ll try talking to dad about it tomorrow.

I took my dog out for the last time tonight a few minutes ago, and while I turned my back for her to do her business in relative privacy, my eyes drifted up to the sky and I saw a number of stars. We live so far out in the country that the stars are all around. The sad thing is I never take the time to look at them. While trying to tell the difference between the stars and the planes, something Robert said to me on Friday came into my brain… he said that a musician is born with the music in them, and that he could see the music was in me, he could tell from my tests that it was (I aced every one of them, and really only studied for the final), when I told him I had gotten “A’s” on every one of my Music Theory tests, he simply said “see it’s there!”. I guess the point is that we often do not notice the things in front of our eyes.

Lately I have been questioning my spirituality. I keep feeling like I am missing something. I have learned, growing up in the city that I have, that if you are not a Christian, then you are obviously going to go to hell. If you are not saved, then there is not a hope for redemption. That’s not how I was raised. My mother is a Catholic, and I am pretty sure my father is a Methodist, or at least he used to attend a Methodist church for the majority of his life. Neither of them forced a religious view upon my sister or myself, and we really only went to church on Easter or Christmas. Occasionally, I would accompany my Grandma to the folk masses at St. Jude’s, but I was never able to understand what the priest was saying. Most of the time when we would go, the priest would be a Pilipino man, whose name I can’t recall, even though he was the one who baptized me when I was a newborn. I remember having several conversations with an atheist friend, and I was always puzzled by how she could not believe that God existed. I have come to accept that He does indeed exist, but I am unsure of how I feel about Him. I am wondering if I had some more religion in my life if it would make me feel better.