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Writer's Block: Conversion Rate
Jun. 17th, 2009 08:35 am[Error: unknown template qotd]
Only as a child, and only for entirely the wrong reasons. When I was a little kid, I desperately wanted to be like other people. Not just like everyone else in the "I want designer clothes" way, but like everyone else enough that both the children and adults around me didn't freak out every time I opened my mouth or reminded them of my existence.
I wanted people to stop throwing those little Gideon bibles at me. I wanted teenage boys not to randomly decide they were going to burn me at the stake. I wanted to be able to walk down the hall at my freaking elementary school without someone whispering "Satan!" or "witch."
I didn't convert, but I will admit to having thought about it. I will admit to having sat in my grandmother's church -- feeling nothing, understanding nothing of what exactly I was supposed to get out of hearing about a deity I felt no connection too -- and thinking "Life would be so much easier if I could believe in this."
In the end, I couldn't do it. And as I sit here in my pajamas with my laptop, halfway across the country from where I grew up, living a very different life than I lived then, all I can say is that I still wouldn't.
I'll be twenty-nine this year. And the same Goddess I started to follow actively when I was four years old is still my Goddess now.
I think I may be forgiven a few moments of weakness, eh, Mother?
Only as a child, and only for entirely the wrong reasons. When I was a little kid, I desperately wanted to be like other people. Not just like everyone else in the "I want designer clothes" way, but like everyone else enough that both the children and adults around me didn't freak out every time I opened my mouth or reminded them of my existence.
I wanted people to stop throwing those little Gideon bibles at me. I wanted teenage boys not to randomly decide they were going to burn me at the stake. I wanted to be able to walk down the hall at my freaking elementary school without someone whispering "Satan!" or "witch."
I didn't convert, but I will admit to having thought about it. I will admit to having sat in my grandmother's church -- feeling nothing, understanding nothing of what exactly I was supposed to get out of hearing about a deity I felt no connection too -- and thinking "Life would be so much easier if I could believe in this."
In the end, I couldn't do it. And as I sit here in my pajamas with my laptop, halfway across the country from where I grew up, living a very different life than I lived then, all I can say is that I still wouldn't.
I'll be twenty-nine this year. And the same Goddess I started to follow actively when I was four years old is still my Goddess now.
I think I may be forgiven a few moments of weakness, eh, Mother?
