Fettuccine Al-dead-o

The afterlife has been somewhat of a concern for me.  Especially since the past few weeks have found me relentlessly questioning my faith.  For the longest time, I had always just taken for granted what everyone told me to believe.  And that’s what it has been all of my life.  People say, “God exists, and you must believe in him.”  Because I was young and impressionable, I did. However, now that I discovered the ever nifty “thinking for yourself” application in my brain, I wonder if I really, truly believe that.  And I don’t know.

We don’t go to church.  Even when we did go to church, I absolutely loathed it.  I had to get up early on Sundays, I had to wear a dress and tights and uncomfortable shoes, and getting ready for church usually put my parents in a really bad mood.  The last time I actually went to church (outside of the going with friends on Sundays before they take me home) was probably when I was ten years old, or somewhere around there.  And I have not really regretted it.  I don’t think that, fifty years from now, that I will say, “Damn.  I really wish I had gone to church more…”  However, I think church may have helped me on my way to the conclusion of what my faith actually was.  When I say that I don’t go to church, I get these hilarious looks that are like, “ARE YOU KIDDING ME???”  My friend and I have talked about this quite a bit.  People, nowadays, believe, not in God’s salvation, but in the salvation that church provides them.  They think that attending church will save their immortal souls.  They think that going to church makes you a good person.  I’m not going to be the one to tell them that going to church is supposed to help you understand–it’s not going to help you ensure your position in heaven, not if you rely on it completely to erase the sins you committed that week.

My friend made an excellent point when we were talking about Catholicism.  “Church is a rehab for sinners, nor a gathering place for saints.”  And that’s how some Catholics view things.  Not all of them, but many of them do.  My father’s family is Catholic, he was raised Catholic, but now, he’s not.  My family “believes” as my mom says.  She doesn’t understand why you have to go to church to be able to call yourself a Christian.  But it isn’t like I exactly want to call myself a Christian, because some of the “Christian” behavior is questionable.  The protesting of a gay man’s funeral is the worst thing I have heard in a while.  It’s appalling to me, that those people call themselves Christians.  That’s very Christian behavior.  People constantly say, “What would Jesus do?”  I can tell you that he wouldn’t do THAT.  That’s fine if you don’t agree with their lifestyle, but that’s none of your business.  Forgiveness is the greatest tool that we have.

So, in all of this that I am saying, none of this has helped me in my search for something to believe.  What’s going to happen to me when I die?  I absolutely refuse that after this life there is nothing.  There’s no possible freaking way I went through all the shit I went through for it all to be OVER.  Just over.  However, I don’t want reincarnation or immortality.  Me and Taylor were talking about that and Futurama came up in conversation.  Bender said ”If I found out I had to live another life, I’d kill myself right now.”  It makes me smile.  I am still on my search for what’s on the other side of this life, because I’m not sure.  But people are helping me find my way, so maybe I’ll be okay. 

I just want to know that when I am fettuccine al-dead-o, or basting the formaldehyde turkey, that there is something waiting for me on the other side.  I know there is, but the specifics are eluding me.  So, now starts my search.  I’ll let you know how it goes.