Daz Bog again. I am proud to say that I got up early, walked my ass down here and parked it to work on my dissertation introduction, which I have - quite remarkably - actually accomplished. I am uncertain what it is about being at home that prevents me from this one task, but it seems I can write on this project anywhere but there. Yesterday I was quite prolific despite being in the ACC commons with a gaggle of middle eastern students talking loudly (if I were better at knowing the subtleties of the languages of the region of the world, I would address them more appropriately) and watching some version of American Idol that was not American. In many ways, I am thankful for the large number of non-English speakers at ACC because it allows me to entirely tune them out. I cannot understand a word and therefore no temptation to eavesdrop exists there.
Alternatively, however, here at Daz Bog in Northglenn, everyone's middle class white and English-speaking. Like the two nondescript guys sitting across from me on sofas who just met here and had not met before because there was no recognition and a follow-up with "are you...[the person I'm waiting for]?" In between the steam of the cappuccino machine and the whir of the blenders, I cannot help listening to them. I can't establish the purpose of their meeting, but so far they've talked about nothing but their Christianity. It's like an AA meeting, "I was rebellious, acting out, .... and I called myself a Christian, but I was driving down the highway and realized that I wasn't living a Christian life." Sigh. And here I was hoping they were gay men who met on some tawdry website last night and thought they'd try to hide the fact that they're just hooking up by doing it in some innocuous burb coffee shop. Or why can't one of them be an Amway salesman? Perhaps I could tell myself that they ARE gay men, meeting to talk about the love of Christ so they can either (a) decide how they can be gay and Christian at the same time, or (b) how they can hide this fact from their families and churches. Or how they will stage a protest...
Why do all devout Christians use the same tired words and catch-phrases: "I handed my life over to Jesus." "I was washed in the blood of Jesus." "I was born again." Blah. I might be more interested if it didn't all sound like the same set of brainwashing phrases designed to make people feel better about their own lousy decisions. What if Jesus doesn't want to run your life for you? What if God gave you a brain so that you would use it and stop bothering him with every little thing? I always imagined that God had better things to do than worry about me and whether or not I keep that pen from the bank or give it back. Whether or not Jamison and I have sex without a piece of paper that sanctifies our relationship. Whether or not I choose to say 'goddammit' or 'gosh-darnit' - and if I choose the latter, isn't it really because I MEAN to say the former? What's the difference between intent and vocalization if God's inside my head?
Now they're watching a video that is so loud I can hear every word. I am tempted to ask them to turn it down - does that make me a bitch?
At any rate, I'm writing simply to keep the writing going. Now that I've done that, I'm going back to the real writing, which is my introduction. I'm on page 22, and that's saying something.
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