November 04, 2004

There Are Some Things That Money Can't Buy

For example: POVERTY

OH WHAT A CONUNDRUM

Although you could pay people to rob your belongings, etc.

Well I suppose I owe you bastards some kind of account of my weekend. I spent it in Kilkenny College, sleeping in dusty fifty year old beds that little boys have been masturbating in for generations, and singing in a worship band. Sounds gay. In many ways, how it sounds is how it is. In other ways, I had an intensely great weekend where I was reminded very powerfully of God's great majesty.

What in the name of Jack Black's cacks is a Christian conference, I can veritably hear you shouting into your modem, in the vain hope that I will hear and reply.

Well, I may not hear you shouting down the modem but I can read minds.

At Christian conferences, usually some particular kind of demographic of Christians get together for fellowship, community, fun, worship, teaching, study and SLEEP DEPRIVATION. I slept about 8 hours in total over the four nights. This particular demographic was that of the members of this island's Christian Unions. There were about four hundred of us there, from just about every college/uni/IT in the country. Cool.

So...you attend seminars on a particular subject that arouses your interest, and addition to this, you attend main session with the group as a whole. You sing a lot of worship songs (which, to the believer, is something touched by the Divine), you meet a lot of new people, you drink a lot of coffee, and, if you are a ball of stress like me, you escape to the pub as often as possible with a small number of other like-minded folks for hot whiskeys and pints of Guinness and BIG ARGUMENTS ON POLITICS.

I normally hate conferences...they're so inorganic. This one, however, was the exception to the rule. I have been softened. I am suitably abashed for my pre-conference rantings.

I had the added bonus, this year, of being the spouse of one of the organisers. SPECIAL TREATMENT GALORE. I swanned about in a fashion appropriate to my status.

So that is THAT.

This week has been a blur of self-pity as I have tried to keep up with my studies and catch up on the lost sleep. God I'm tired. That's what I shouted in lectures today. GOD I'M TIRED.

Today has been a positively argumentative day. RAGING SELF RIGHTEOUS NEURO AHOY.

Firstly, a very arrogant young man in my philosophy class who gets his kicks from humiliating old priests with Parkinsons disease, steered our lecture off on an irrelevant tangent that was simply designed to upset the lecturer and challenge him on a purely personal level: I lost the rag a bit and pointed out the redunant nature of his argument and the irrelevancies of his repeated interruption. Shortly, thereafter, he left the lecture, proving my point that he only comes along to disrupt things, and when he is not speaking, he is not interested.

Later, I bumped into an old philosophy tutor of mine today, and went with him to his office to get back a book I'd lent him, where we managed to somehow entangle ourselves in a three hour theological debate on the doctrinal differences between Catholicism and Protestantism. The man is a giant and it was very intimidating, but what stood to me was my superior knowledge of the bible, which helped somewhat. He on the other hand can speak French, German, Latin and Greek fluently. : ( Anyway we reached no conclusions and have agreed to do the same again soon.

Then, after this, I went for dinner with my husband, our two housemates and another friend, and then onto the pub, where a huge republican/unionist debate arose. Fascinating, but GOLLY GOSH HARD WORK.

It is nice to have people in your life who keep you on your toes. I like to think that this may help to prevent the onset of Alzheimer's disease, although the very fact that I am worrying at all about Alzheimer's at my age is probably something to worry about in and of itself. They say tomatoes can help. I eat a lot of tomatoes. Although never with bread, they make the bread soggy as hell. Beetroot, another close vegetable friend of mine, also commits this heinous bread-crime. I could eat a whole jar of beetroot, purple vinegar, glass and all, if I had to.

Speaking of eating strange things, M (lovely housemate) offered me a sum of money to drink a concoction I had absent-mindedly mixed together at our table during the debate. It contained alot of sugar, coke and bits of nuts. I drank every drop AND PROUD. I'm richer now. Are you richer? No. So don't judge me.

World politics: Bush is still King of the World. You know it, I know it, no need to talk about what this means. As for us, we shall trundle on as usual, bitching about Americans, supping our Pepsi and wearing our Nikes, HURRAH. DEEP MAN, DEEP.

As you may have noticed, I got my links working on the left. Click them, they are my sponsors. HA HA HA. No, click them so they can have traffic. Traffic is good, except when sitting in it on the way to college. Then it's bad, as bad as Mr. Bush, and what kind of a mess are we in then? A SOGGY MESS, MADE PROBABLY BY BEETROOT SANDWICHES WITH TOMATO SAUCE.

Bed time came and went long ago.

Watch me as I crawl away.

Posted by neuro-praxis on November 4, 2004 12:46 AM, in the category Rhythm Worries