study broke

I'm tired of reading about things I don't care about. I realized I retain information for a long time for things I'm interested in, such as the fact that the bear who voiced chewbacca in star wars died in the 90s or something. Or that the world's biggest diamond is floating in space (at 10 billion trillion trillion cts), not that i care much for diamonds or space exploration (whattup bryan), but that is just kinda COOoooool.

In 3 days my college experience will come to an end, as far as testing and projects and general academic BULLSHIT is concerned. The degree to which i'm thrilled is well... moderated by how tired and frustrated I am for even having to go through with all these projects. Within the next couple of days, aisde from a typical test with essay questions, I will be helping to present something like 100 pages in reports and maybe 80 slides worth of powerpoint presentations. does this come off as bitchy? do i sound like a wus?

fuck it.

I think i've out-stayed my welcome in the conservative south. I went to lunch after scott's baptism with some of his students, his pastor's family, and some of our mutual friends. I ended up in a discussion about evolutionism and creationism with the pastor, which pretty much sucked since I'm pretty sure that he'll now consider me one of scott's "bad influence" friends or something. The arguments he used to support his belief in creationism are the same that the church has been re-hashing for generations--gaps in the fossil record, the way everything is just a theory, and the general concession of evolution on a smaller scale. I wanted to go to town, but that wasn't the place nor the time.

I recently heard that agnostics are just atheists who are scared of death. I thought that was pretty accurate.

I said I'd give church a chance in LA, but not in the korean/asian-american context. The bitterness I have begun to harbor after I realized the extent to which I was endoctrin--brainwashed by the church has made it a difficult decision to even give church a second chance. or maybe God's giving me a second chance. but then we must also presuppose He exists in the manner He describes.

At the end of the day, I am terrified of being wrong.
that God DOES exist, and is who He says he is.
that there is a hell.
and that i have licked the stamp affixed to the envelope that will send me there.

I sat next to faith's cousin (think her name was Gina) at the university fashion show (BIG UPS ON THAT WIN, FAITH), and she had started our conversation by mentioning that she had seen me around church in houston. We discussed religion, and I didn't know how to respond to her optimism, her unwavering belief that indeed God will "bring me back to Him." with what confidence can she say such things? Even after 23 years of believing that I wouldn't fall as I have, I did. I tried to explain to her the science that serves as the basis of my agnosticism. I was kind of high at the time, so I don't think I communicated it as articulately as I could have. I'd like to take a brief moment to share the fact that even in my most inebriated of states, my verbal ninjitsu doesn't get any sloppier than the way most people speak sober.

I hate when they attribute my agnosticism to my age. Older people say that they all had this "phase." Assuming that this belief will at one point be terminated at some yet-to-be-determined moment in time. They assume that questioning and self-searching is simply a by-product of the college environment. I don't think it's fair to see things that way. The immediate assumption that my experience is the same as theirs is a bit immature. I know that the questions I'm asking have been asked by millions before me. I'm sure that my thoughts aren't all that original, considering the span of humanity's existence on earth. It's just that if I've learned ONE thing in the past 23 years, it's that I am different. I am markedly different from my peers. Not necessarily in any better way, but i am one eccentric asshole.

We'll see what happens in the summer. I'll stick to my word, for my mama's sake.