fantasy impromptu, opus no. 66

I let him borrow my camera when he went climbing yesterday, and I just learned that I have sound on my camera. Yep... so I can take tiny movies with sound and this is something to talk about.

I give you the following image.

Nice to meet you, Joe.

He's taking me to see Pete Yorn tonight, right here in little ole Bloomington.

I bleached my hair yesterday and my father is having a full-blown wedding on New Year's Day and my mother is moving to Florida in December and my sister turns 30 tomorrow and Tylere left yesterday at noon.

Tylere's dad sends me his love more than my father does. Tylere and I had an absolutely wonderful time full of pizza and music and movies and cigarettes and beer, of course. We had some really fabulous talks, too. I adore him. He offered to marry me at sixty.

Tylere isn't the "One", but I still sure as hell could live with him and be happy. Like roommates, I mean.

Last night I got really stressed out. In the morning I talked to mom, and later last night I talked to dad, and in between I had a discussion with Joe about God... only not.

I thought the topic was just personal views on God, and that we weren't intending to throw down about who was right or not, but he's so damn scientific and inquisitive. He picks apart my language and misses the point. He told me that the Bible is scientifically and archeologically unsound and I just smiled at him and said I wasn't prepared to argue about that.

So he asked if I thought he was wrong, and I told him I would never call his views wrong. Believe it or not, we got into an argument about how I won't judge and codemn him based on the standards I have chosen for myself.

Hmpf.

So all the Christians run around proselytizing everyone and are hated, and here's this guy lambasting me for not being that way.

Should I be more, "I'm right, you're wrong"? Is it time for me to start condmening my homosexual friends? Is it time for me to start telling my agnostic friends that without Christ they're going to Hell?

Maybe he just wants me to tell him I think he's wrong so he'll feel the right to tell me I'm wrong.

I asked him to separate me from anyone he knows who calls themself a Christian and to consider me an individual, judged on the basis of how I present myself, and not on how others have presented Christianity. So he wanted to know to what extent I did claim that title, and I said the Jesus and the Bible part.

Simply put, he cannot reconcile intelligence and science with spirituality because anything that cannot be explained with logic is unfounded and I am no better than a schizophrenic, and he wanted to tell me I'm wrong, and I'm crazy.

But he couldn't.

Because I just wanted him to know my faith is deep and beloved and not up for his criticism, and in return I would not criticize him.

Damn that irritated him.

I don't like to argue at home. That's for the classroom. I totally buy into a, "you and me, babe, versus the world," kind of attitude.

I don't know what else to tell you.

Don't worry about me, though. I'm being the best Michaela I can be without a vacuum cleaner.