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Where did you go, September?

It was right there on my to-do list: write blog post. I knew that September only has 30 days, and I needed to post something yesterday or break my string going back to 2009 of having posted something in every month, even if it was crap or recycled dreck.

But I failed.

I could have just back-dated something, which I did almost two years ago, when I hadn’t written anything for more than two months, a time when I desperately hated my job and had no inspiration for anything. Time freed up for me then when I was fired from that job and I had all the time in the world to blog (not that I wrote that much, just enough to fuel the illusion that I was a dilegent if infrequent blogger).

I could have come home earlier, instead of staying out after trivia and singing no fewer than three karaoke songs (two of which I performed credibly), and tossed off something before the clock struck midnight. But I’m trying to learn to forgive myself for the artificial pressures no one but me is putting upon myself, and maybe this rant cum confession is better than anything I could have written under a deadline.

This is a line in the sand. Hopefully from now on I’ll feel more inspiration or motivation to write regularly. September 2018 will be the mensis horibilis that marks the past off from the future. Let it stay empty, as a sign of a turning point in my creative life.

I realize this post is not at all funny and so off-brand to the purpose of this blog, so here’s my favourite joke:

A pirate walks into a bar. He has a ship’s wheel attached to his groin. The bartender asks what’ll it be and the pirate says “rum.” After a few more rounds the bartender can’t contain his curiosity and asks what’s up with the wheel. The pirate replies, “Yaarrrr, I don’t know, but it’s drivin’ me nuts!”

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It took me more than forty years to sing in public, but now I quite enjoy it, even if I still have anxiety because I know I don’t sing well. Still, it’s a long way from the time when I wouldn’t even sing in front of my family. My father was happy to sing but he embarrassed me, because he always sang with a huge smile on his face, while I rarely smiled at all. I can’t pinpoint the time when I changed from the happy child that can be seen in early photos to the miserable bastard that I am now. It was well before the typical age when changes like that happen, as a teenager. Was it the same age–eight or nine–as I stopped believing in Satan, and then God? But shouldn’t that have been a happy time, knowing I was free of the illusions that held most of the world down? Or did I then begin to mourn the realization that I was different, and therefore doomed to a life of loneliness? That was a tough understanding to come to at such an early age, especially since it’s turned out not to be a pessimistic lie, but eerily prescient: I have indeed spent the bulk of my life alone. Contrary to popular opinion, my greatest fear isn’t to die alone, but to live alone, since I have to face that reality every day, and I’ve always had the feeling that, while I may not be immortal (although, I might be, it remains to be seen), I’m going to live for an awfully, terribly long time. When Halley’s Comet was all the rage in 1986, and everyone was thrilling to its rare appearance, I determined that I’d wait until the next time it came back to view it, even though I’d begged for a telescope for Christmas, largely on the premise that I’d need it for this once-in-a-lifetime experience. Well, once-in-a-lifetime experience for most, but surely at least twice-in-a-lifetime for me.

Life used to be so much simpler: Work, School, Home, Church. These were the building blocks of American society.

But now our children question everything. The average person will have a dozen jobs in their lifetime. Even a college degree won’t guarantee a good living. Kids would rather play Grand Theft Auto and sext than sit down for a nice home-cooked meal. And church attendance is lower than ever.

That’s why the Church needs to fight back. If we don’t give our children a reason to go to Church we may lose them forever.

It’s why Our Lady of Third Pentecostal does things a little differently. Sure, we have sermons and hymns and prayers. We do weddings; we do funerals. We’re a full-service Christian institution in every way.

But we also understand the need to stand out from the crowd. We understand that kids are turning away from the Lord in droves. That’s why we put the “fun” in fundamental.

Here are a few of the things we offer:

  • Rock-climbing walls
  • PlayStation
  • Taylor Swift karaoke
  • Skateboarding
  • Naughty cosplay
  • Softball league
  • Scripture Jeopardy!
  • Rainbow parties

Now, if all this won’t bring your children to Church, then maybe the Church doesn’t want them. (Kidding! The Church wants all your children. Every last one of them.)

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