The Fall of Man

death

They found him. Gunshot wound to the chest on his birthday. Although, it makes sense, his heart was what hurt the most. His wife passed away four years ago in a car accident. He was the one driving the car… He had sold his house two weeks before he took his life. He wanted to move out of the city and on with his life. But, with no job prospects and no real friends anywhere else, he must have lost all hope. Deep down, we all knew this day would come; we just thought it would have happened shortly after she died, not now.

My uncle Steve is was an introverted, angry man. He didn’t like the outside world. When he met and married my aunt, his second wife, new life was pumped into his veins. He turned himself around, started going to parties, meeting people, and he even thought about having children! He said and did things he, and we, never thought he would do. But, when he accidently hit the other car that caused her death; he also died. The spark she implanted in him was gone; he went back to his old ways, hating the world and everyone in it. Each year that he remained alive, we considered ourselves lucky.

The last time I saw him was the day before his birthday. We were at a family gathering at my grandmothers. It was to celebrate her birthday, as well as his. He retreated to the living room for most of his time there, and when he was in the kitchen, he wouldn’t talk to anyone. All he wanted to do was play with his smart phone. When my grandmother talked to him, he answered her with a strong tongue and boiling anger in his eyes. No one could say or do anything to please him at this point.

I didn’t even bother trying to talk to him for fear that he would lash out at me. In fact, in all the years that we’ve been family, I’ve never said more than a few sentences to him. He wasn’t the type of uncle to show up at your high school play, take you out for ice cream, or make small talk. He was a man who just wanted to be left alone.

Sure, I could cry my heart out, take off of work for a few weeks, and preach to everyone about how you need to, “hold you loved ones close.” But, I can’t. I’ve never loved this man. To me, this isn’t a heartbreaking loss.

In fact, this isn’t a loss at all. My uncle did not die; he’s very much alive. Today he turns another year older…and colder, that is true. And, as I sat near him the other day, not speaking a word, I was reminded of how awful of a person I truly am. I realized in that moment that the man sitting near me is a man I’ve known my whole life; but he’s been nothing but a stranger. I realized that if he died tomorrow, even from suicide, it would not have a major impact on me. Sure, I would feel awful. No one deserves to die, no matter what the cause! And, no one deserves to feel alone. But, to me, it wouldn’t feel like a major loss. I can honestly say that it would hurt more if my dog died than if he passed away.

Four years ago, this was where my family found themselves; on suicide watch for my uncle. It’s awful to admit that someone who is supposed to be such a huge part of your life doesn’t matter to you. Writing those words, “It would hurt more if my dog died than if he passed away” makes me feel like a terrible person, but I know deep down that I’m being true to myself. Although, sometimes, we have to admit that even those people in our lives who are supposed to be family and the closest humans to us, mean zilch. That is why we all must create our own “families.” “Families” that are made up of blood relations, friends, acquaintances, dogs, cats, etc. “Plant your own seeds and grown your own garden because you have the power to choose who you become and who is allowed to influence you along the way.”

Granny Smith – over and out

Losing My Religion

prayer

I grew up with very Catholic grandparents and not so Catholic parents. When I was in elementary school, in an effort to make my grandparents happy, my parents sent me to Sunday school. There are only two memories I have of Sunday school. The first is that there was a lot of coloring, and you were given a piece of candy if you got a question about Jesus right. The second was the singing. At the end of every session, each grade would gather into the main hallway, and an old woman would sit in the middle with her guitar and make us sing songs about Jesus.

I didn’t understand anything that was happening, and I often asked my teachers for proof of the history of Jesus (artifacts, anything), so my parents promptly removed me from classes.

As I got older, my family and I started going to church less and less, and pretty soon, all I knew about being a Catholic was that Jesus rose from the dead on Easter and that his birthday is what we call, “Christmas.” As we were pulling away from God, I questioned everything spiritual more and more, year after year. Eventually, when I was nearing the end of high school and beginning college, I decided that I didn’t believe in the afterlife, heaven, hell, God, anything. I had no proof, therefore, it was not real.

I didn’t think about anything regarding religion until I watched an episode of “Long Island Medium” with Theresa Caputo. I had watched other mediums perform before like John Edward, Sylvia Browne, and James Van Praagh, but they were always positioned in front of a large audience, and everything about it seemed so staged. Theresa, on the other hand, was stopping people in grocery stores, doing private readings, going on cruises and reading groups, and walking in to someone’s home and reading a group of 10 people. She did it all. Every situation she was put in, she came out with a victory. How could you not believe her? But, I still wondered, was it a sham? Were these cameras set up? So, when she came out with her book, There’s More to Life Than This, I bought and read it. Then, my life changed forever.

I started believing again when I watched Theresa on TV, but her book really won me over. She talked about experiences that people have in their everyday lives that are signs from spirit, instances that you can’t write or verbally explain to anyone else. It was as though someone had gotten into my head and described everything I’ve never been able to tell anyone else in perfectly strung sentences. I finally felt normal.

In fact, so normal that I recently began working at a Christian college. Everyone that I work with is obviously religious, and they have been their whole lives…Unfortunately, this is where I fall short. I know hardly anything about being a Christian, and I can safely say that I’m not one. At least, not the type of Christian I’ve come in contact with. Yes, I like everyone that I work with. But, I also believe in gay marriage, the fact that homosexuality is not a sin, that swearing is a part of human nature, and being edgy is what makes you real. I love Lady Gaga! Of course, all of these things are generally not celebrated in Christian faith, and that is why I can’t be a true follower.

Theresa Caputo has stated multiple times that all too often individuals use religion to pull themselves apart from others or as an excuse to “hate” someone. When, really, we should be using religion to spread love, kindness, and compassion. They use God as a symbol of fear, instead of a symbol of understanding. Like the GOP, once Christians can wake up and modernize, then maybe I’ll jump on their bandwagon to Bethlehem. I’m not trying to say that all Christians are bad people, most of them are the most compassionate individuals I’ve ever met, but, it’s time to embrace the new world and remind ourselves that Jesus was friends with a prostitute. So, seriously, is being gay really that awful?

Granny Smith – over and out

New Years With Nerds

nerds

If there’s anything I’ve noticed over the years it’s that true nerds are a different species. I suppose you could classify my boyfriend as a nerd, however, he has the social skills that most stereotypical nerds lack. I, of course, use the term ‘nerd’ endearingly. I adore many of the people who run in my boyfriend’s nerd gang. They’re beautiful souls, but we just don’t mesh.

I’m always reminded of this when I hang out with a lot of his friends at once. To give you an example of what it feels like when I’m with his group, imagine that you’re a middle class, white human living in New York, New York. All of as sudden, you’ve been transported to the heart of Mexico, and now you’re the minority. Sure, some people speak English, but pretend you’re in a city where their knowledge of English is bare minimum. See what I mean? I feel like I’m stuck with people who don’t speak my language, and no matter how hard I try, I will never be able to speak theirs. Sure, we know a few words, and we may have some similar values, but, the core of who we are is so different that we’ll never be able to figure each other out…unless one person becomes fluent in the other’s language.

For me, I’ve always struggled in the learning department. I’m not smart, and I will never claim to be knowledgeable in anything important. (Now, pop culture, that’s a different story). So, image me sitting at a table trying to insert myself into a conversation my man’s friends are having about nuclear energy and biomechanics. I’m lost. All I can do is say, “uh huh,” or “interesting.” Sometimes, I ask questions to try and better understand what they’re talking about, but half the time I can’t even remember what they were saying. I feel like I need a dictionary for every other word that comes out of their mouth.

Even when they’re drunk, they’re smarter than I am. They can play variations of chess and still win. (I’ve never played chess or checkers in my life. I tried to learn a few times as a kid and failed…miserably). What’s even worse is when they bring out the “fun” card games. Like ‘Smart Ass,’ for example. This game is all about reading clues from a card and trying to guess the person, place, or thing before everyone else does. And, you guessed it. When we played, I came in last. My brain just doesn’t operate on their level. It’s hard explaining the fact that I have a learning disability to a group of highly intelligent people who’ve never had an issue with comprehending information in their life, let alone people who have literally been made fun of for being able to comprehend said information so quickly and thoroughly.

I love that every soul on this Earth is different and unique, and I embrace other people’s cool. I was the weird kid growing up (and I still am), so I know what it’s like to not feel like you fit in or think that everyone around you doesn’t get you. I know what it’s like to have interests in things that other people don’t. I look forward to all of the different comments and perspectives that I receive from writing this blog (that’s one of the main reasons why I continue posting). So, ladies and gentlemen, my message is clear. Do you, and don’t forget to let your freak flag fly.

Granny Smith – over and out