![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
sleeping with the lights on
I have been planning to start writing about, well, religion and god-talk and specifically, my current take on paganism. Basic issue is, the grand story that neopaganism embraced and used as a founding history, is now in deep doubt—if not totally disproven. This is the “once, there was worldwide matriarchy; the cult of the Great Goddess flourished in all lands…” and the “Burning Times” story. Now a religion doesn’t have to be founded on rock-solid facts (like a virgin birth, or literal exodus) for it to be meaningful, or even true. So I’m trying to reconcile the metaphor-laced truths that I believe in with my inability to believe a fiction about history. This is very convoluted. You can see why I’m trying to put it into some organized form.
You see, I had planned to write that. Then Saturday happened. After working in the morning, then three hours of Harvest Moon (oooo, shiny box tells me stories…and my sheep Puffy is almost ready for clipping!), we decided to finally watch “The Ring”. After about a year of renting it, putting it off, returning it unwatched. Tonight, we actually watched it.
Or rather, MrTheMan watched all but the last thirty seconds, and I had my face firmly planted in a pillow for about forty percent of the movie. I couldn’t even see the first fifteen minutes. I was crying from fear. This movie affected me more than Mulholland Drive, Session Nine, The Kingdom…It hit all my major fear buttons. Something unnatural in the home; something set in the most normal of places capable of turning menacing, deadly, evil without notice.
Lesson learned: Evil leaves voicemails. Never, ever, ever watch TV.
Now we are watching Space Ghost, trying to scrub our brains clean enough to sleep. I’m sitting here with my tank top unzipped, sipping Drambuie to put myself into a mild stupor. Drambuie, for those who haven’t experienced its glory, is like rum laced with honey and made even better. But it’s pretty strong. I have also rediscovered that my defense mechanism, when truly scared, is to babble like a moron.
Tonight, and probably most of the next week, we sleep with the lights on.
You see, I had planned to write that. Then Saturday happened. After working in the morning, then three hours of Harvest Moon (oooo, shiny box tells me stories…and my sheep Puffy is almost ready for clipping!), we decided to finally watch “The Ring”. After about a year of renting it, putting it off, returning it unwatched. Tonight, we actually watched it.
Or rather, MrTheMan watched all but the last thirty seconds, and I had my face firmly planted in a pillow for about forty percent of the movie. I couldn’t even see the first fifteen minutes. I was crying from fear. This movie affected me more than Mulholland Drive, Session Nine, The Kingdom…It hit all my major fear buttons. Something unnatural in the home; something set in the most normal of places capable of turning menacing, deadly, evil without notice.
Lesson learned: Evil leaves voicemails. Never, ever, ever watch TV.
Now we are watching Space Ghost, trying to scrub our brains clean enough to sleep. I’m sitting here with my tank top unzipped, sipping Drambuie to put myself into a mild stupor. Drambuie, for those who haven’t experienced its glory, is like rum laced with honey and made even better. But it’s pretty strong. I have also rediscovered that my defense mechanism, when truly scared, is to babble like a moron.
Tonight, and probably most of the next week, we sleep with the lights on.