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pastor_j
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read my profile
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Name: Jason
Country: United States
State: Texas
Metro: grapevine
Birthday: 6/18/1983
Gender: Male
Interests: Drumming, nature, music, Xbox Live Arcade, painting, writing
Expertise: I'm sort of an empath...
Occupation: Nurse Aide
Industry: Medical
Message: message meEmail: email me
Member Since:
9/1/2004
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| Dammit, Jim!Your results:
You are Leonard McCoy (Bones)| Leonard McCoy (Bones) |
| 70% | | Deanna Troi |
| 60% | | James T. Kirk (Captain) |
| 55% | | Spock |
| 55% | | Jean-Luc Picard |
| 55% | | Beverly Crusher |
| 55% | | Will Riker |
| 55% | | Worf |
| 55% | | An Expendable Character (Redshirt) |
| 55% | | Data |
| 46% | | Mr. Scott |
| 45% | | Chekov |
| 45% | | Uhura |
| 35% | | Mr. Sulu |
| 30% | | Geordi LaForge |
| 30% |
| You are a pessimistic and bitter doctor,
but you are skilled in the ways of medicine and science.
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Click here to take the Star Trek Personality Quiz
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| I won!I placed 2nd and 4th in the TCC NE Writing Competition! I'll get prize money for 2nd place. I won't get prize money for 4th because they have to honor 4 students, so they gave 4th to the next lowest scoring entry. Still, I got mentioned in the email as one of the only people to have two entries place and get published. WOO! I NOW HAVE PUBLISHING CREDITS!
I'll post the winning entries soon. Too tired right now.
So stoked, though.
EDIT:
Here are the winning entries. "Socks" won 2nd place. I've never posted it before, so enjoy. "Rage" won 4th place. I've posted it before, so it may be familiar to you.
Socks
It is well known in the community of my bedroom, which consists solely of my wife and I (sorry, kinksters), that I tend to wear my socks during sex. Don’t ask me why. In the beginning, I think it was because I just didn’t think about it. You could probably write psychological tomes about the warmth, comfort, and security they offer, but really, they’re just one of those silly little jokes that you have with your spouse. I wear my socks during sex – it’s funny. Yes, it is, so shut up.
My wife and I have a habit of practicing personification in our daily lives. We imbue inanimate objects with personality, then speak for them. Yes, it’s funny; no, it’s not deranged.
Shut up.
During our last bedroom foray, I noticed that she had left her socks on, too. “My socks are cool,” she said playfully as she jumped into bed.
Quite used to our silly little games of personification, I replied frowning, “My socks’ feelings are hurt! You said they’re not cool!”
Now, in all actuality, her socks are cooler than my socks. I’ve had a close, dare I say, intimate relationship with Hanes crew socks since my teen years. Morpheus might say they’ve become part of my residual self image.
But my wife’s socks were black knee highs with a snazzy blue and silver argyle pattern; not the garden variety argyle that your grandpa wears with his ten year old loafers and bicycle shorts. No, this argyle pattern was stylin’– it makes the emo kids at Hot Topic cry and wish they were cool enough to wear it.
In the midst of all the sweat, sex, and passion, it occurred to me that she hadn’t said my socks weren’t cool. She simply said that her socks were cool.
It’s funny, the things you think about during sex.
But this isn’t about the sex. It’s about communication.
My mind rocketed far above the planet and spied all of the arguments and fights occurring across the world of humankind. From families to friends arguing, opposing tribes fighting, or different cultures warring, it occurred to me, idealist that I am, that communication could probably solve all these problems.
Then my thoughts drifted to the Christian upbringing I’d left so many years ago. I heard all the “literal vs. figurative” arguments all over again.
I’ve always been an implied meaning kind of guy. Communication has always been something I’ve been good at, and I tend to take it for granted. I like to think that we’re all good at communication, or at least should be good at it, so I get frustrated with people I come across who simply aren’t good at it.
Intuition can’t be learned. But perhaps if people were less defensive and more willing to understand, there would be less personal wars, which could lead to less global wars.
Back to the socks. In our silly little game, my implied meaning was that her socks were cooler than my socks. But she didn’t actually say that. She simply said her socks were cool. My own insecurities heard that her socks were cooler than mine.
If the Christians would stop thinking the Muslims hate their socks, we would have more equality and acceptance. Perhaps we could finally have a forum between the two religions, finding the similarities and common ground they share.
If the Republicans and Democrats would stop bad mouthing each others’ socks, and the third parties would stop trying to get by wearing flip flops in winter, perhaps we could unite this country and get things back on a positive track.
If only...
The straights and gays; the blacks, whites, yellows, browns, and reds; the left and the right; the educated and uneducated; the fortunate and less fortunate; rich and poor; “civilized” and “uncivilized”; the theist and the nontheist; men and women; brothers and sister...
We’re all brothers and sisters in this human race.
That’s a funny word, isn’t it? Race.
Yet we shouldn’t treat this as a race. Survival of the fittest aside, we should strive for equality and acceptance, love and forgiveness, peace and hope. We should help our brothers and sisters along so that we all may visit the finish line.
We’ll all cross the finish line whether we’re wearing cool socks or not.
But we’ve got to depend on each other.
If your feet are cold, you can wear my socks.
Share?
Rage
Yanked, pulled, shoved from the dreamy world of sleep, my muscles aching with a surge of adrenaline. My drunken muscles fight the melatonin. Adrenaline charges to war in my veins. I hurtle myself into the darkened light of 4:30 in the morning.
Instinct. Preservation. She is mine and I am hers.
Danger. She is in danger.
The war in my muscles makes me angry. With each running step closer, I shake and pound with fury. I grunt and growl and force, no, will the adrenaline into my muscles. Unbottling a finely controlled rage, disappeared for years but kept just under the skin for this moment. For this time.
Yes, this will be my weapon of choice. This will be the instrument of his death.
I am a screaming savage. I am contorted with rage and fury, fear and anger.
My body is a battering ram. I am a cage fighter. I am a sumo wrestler. I am 1,500 pounds of solid fury as I throw myself into him.
Can't think. Shouldn't allow myself that. Betraying thoughts of fear and what if dance around my sullied consciousness, taunting me like demons from the terrifying darkness.
I will silence them.
Wasn't I just asleep? Wasn't I just basking in the infinite darkness of slumbered reality? Now, pulled from that land, only --
My hands are claw hammers. My hands are big, stupid blocks of meat, made precise only by the rage of how dare he touch her. How dare he think he could do this.
My hands are pistons. My hands are vice grips. I tear into his skull with so much fury like a kid at Christmas. Blood. Red. Shards of bone. And in my gut, mixed with the sick fear and fury --
Satisfaction. Keep going. Don't stop. Can't stop. Can't blink, can't breathe, can't think. Can't let him have an edge.
Stop, she yells. No, she yells. Sure, I think. Better than the stop and no you would be crying right now.
No, I won't stop. Yes, I will keep going.
I will break this motherfucker into fucking pieces before I even consider stopping as a viable option.
Grasping, clutching, punching, snarling. Blood, sweat, adrenaline.
Wasn't I just asleep? Am I dreaming? Yes, that's it. Vision blurry, world surreal, spinning. Must be dreaming.
Stop, she yells.
Shaking. Trembling. I arise more than a man. I am savage. My heart beating with a thousand million ancestors, coming to know the knowledge of murder.
Oh yes. You will never do this again, you motherfucker. I will shake the very life from you, you fucking piece of trash.
Should I tell you of the pleasure I derived from it? Should I tell you how time slowed and allowed me the luxury of deciding how and when my next blow would land? My fingers had eyes. They probed his opened face and skull. Suddenly, I knew how it was all put together and how it all worked. I savored the pain in his eyes, the fear in his face, and the what the fuck in his mouth. I pulled him apart with the dexterity of a surgeon. Yes. He was afraid now. And I would make sure this cunt died that way.
Chest heaving. My lungs stinging with the acrid scent of blood, sweat, and fury. Arms numbs. Hands tingling. Forearms red, pock marked with shards of white, yellow, and crimson.
My world spinning. She at the center of it. She is okay. Shaken, crying. How did this happen? But alive. And okay. Protected. Not sullied by this mongrel and his cruel intent.
I kick the motherfucker in the groin for good measure and consider clawing his balls off. I approve of his sick, gurgling groan. His agony is USDA Certified Grade A. I'll buy that steak for a dollar, Johnny.
But then, clarity.
so awake. so asleep.
Sleep. I just want to sleep now.
Chest heaving. Eyes stinging. Can't breathe. Sobs racking my body.
What have I done?
What brought this poor man into my life in this way? What had he done to leave him with this choice? But it was his choice, wasn't it?
Painfully aware now. No. I want to run. Must find that land of slumber and whisper and infinite blackness again.
I was a murderer. I lay as shattered as my quarry.
But I did it for her.
And I would do it again.
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| Shh...Things feel very still, very quiet in Xangaland tonight...
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| Survey timeCuz I'm bored and putting off homework...
SURVEY CITY 1. What color is your toothbrush?
Uh... I think it's green and white.
2. Name one person who made you smile today:
My beautiful wife Elena always makes me smile 
3. What were you doing at 8 am this morning:
Cussing the alarm as it went off.
4. What were you doing 45 minutes ago?
Cleaning up after a workout and talking with Elena.
5.What is your favorite candy bar?
Depends on my mood. But you know what candy bar I really miss? Twix Cookies 'N Creme! They don't make them anymore!
6. Have you ever done karaoke?
Hell no. But I have drummed in front of a thousand people!
7. What is the last thing you said aloud
"What the @%$!, Burrito?" (Burrito is my cat)
8. What is your favorite ice cream flavor?
Cookies N Creme (Though I love me some McDonald's strawberry milkshake)
9. What was the last thing you had to drink?
Snapple Antioxidant Water
10. Do you like your wallet?
Meh. I have a long history of love/hate relationships with my wallets.
11. What was the last thing you ate?
Pop tarts for breakfast
12. Have you bought any new clothing items this week?
Erm... no. But I need some new flip flops!
13. The last sporting event you watched?
Everybody else working out in PE class this morning.
14. What is your favorite flavor of popcorn?
Plain ol' lightly buttered pop corn, I reckon. Don't usually go for the fancy stuff.
15. Who is the last person you sent a text message too?
Adam, my brother.
16. Ever go camping?
Not since '03 or '04... bad experience. Used to camp all the time in my younger days, though. I've been jonesing for a camping trip lately.
17. Do you take vitamins daily?
Get all I need from the FOOD I EAT.
18. Do you go to church every Sunday?
Fuck no. If you want to know why, you either don't know me, or need a couple hours for the backstory.
19. Do you have a tan?
Pasty white.
20. Do you prefer Chinese food over pizza?
That's tough. I'm almost always in the mood for Chinese, but lately I've been all about some gourmet pizza.
21. Do you drink your soda with a straw?
Sometimes. 22. What did your last text message say?
Inbound: It's all good. Outbound: hahaha yeah that's it. 23. What are you doing tomorrow?
Working a 12 at Children's.
24. What time is it right now?
Time for you to get a watch.
25. Look to your left, what do you see?
ELENA!!!! This excites me.
26. What color is your watch?
Brown leather band, silver watch with blue face.
27. What do you think of when you hear Australia?
I think of the word "Australia", but said with an Australian accent. Like, "Os-tryl-ya."
29. Do you go in at a fast food place or just hit the drive thru?
Don't do much fast food anymore. If I'm in a hurry or planning on eating somewhere else, I go through the drive thru. But I try not to be a lazy American fat ass and actually go in.
30. What is your favorite number?
Used to be 7, but that's when I was a superstitious, brainwashed Christian. Not sure anymore. 2005? 
31. Who's the last person you talked to on the phone?
Mr. Spradlin
32. Any plans today?
Need to put the finishing touches on a research paper and start another paper that's due next week. Maybe I'll do Elena at some point, too.
33. How many states have you lived in?
Three.
34. Biggest annoyance right now?
This god damned survey.
35. Last song listened to?
Duke's Travels / Duke's End by Genesis
36. Can you say the alphabet backwards?
Yup. Faster than you, too.
37. Do you have a maid service clean your house?
No. Need one, though.
38. Favorite pair of shoes you wear all the time?
Flip flops, and my Hush Puppie house shoes. Oh, and my moccasins.
39. Are you jealous of anyone?
Eh? 40. Is anyone jealous of you?
Probably. Have you SEEN my wife? All men are automatically jealous of me because of her.
41. Do you love anyone?
See above.
42. Do any of your friends have children?
My big brother has a couple kids, and he's one of my best friends.
43. What do you usually do during the day?
Eat, sleep, work, school, Elena, pet the cat. You get the idea.
44. Do you hate anyone that you know right now?
Old boss of mine. What a douchebag.
45. Do you use the word 'hello' daily?
Sometimes, usually when I'm answering the phone.
46. What color is your car?
Aurora Blue.
47. Do you like cats?
Yup.
48. Are you thinking about someone right now?
Food. 49. Have you ever been to Six Flags?
Yuh-huh. 50. How did you get your worst scar?
When I was three, my brother was chasing me around our apartment. I tripped and fell, hitting my chin on the corner of the stereo cabinet. Still have a scar underneath my chin. Oh. And the scars from my gall bladder surgery.
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| The Need for GodShort edit:
The below would probably make more sense if I could verbalize just what's led me to this point. Right now, I don't believe I can.
Thought I'd write another "State of the Jason" blog.
As you may or may not be aware, I've been on quite the spiritual journey since leaving Christianity some years ago. As such, I've felt I have less and less to say -- no, more like I'm not quite sure what to say or how to say it. Religion and spirituality are sensitive topics, and while part of me does believe in shaking up long held beliefs and shocking the general populace, lately I've been wanting to take a gentler, subtler approach.
I've eliminated my need for God. Rather, my need for the idea of God. The Christian heritage I hail from, and see in America today (though there are many flavors in the various denominations) is a religion of zero responsibility. Either make God do it for you, or the Devil did it to you.
It was only after I left Christianity that I found myself. It was only after I left Christianity that I began believing in myself and found a wider world of spirituality.
Demons from the past taunt me. "Wider" leads to destruction, brother.
Yes, I say. Destruction of the facade of your hypocrisy.
I'm not saying I don't need God, though such a statement would be far less shocking to me now than it would have been in times past. I see things much more holistically now -- some things are just understood, and need not be said or discussed. I do believe in a being, or energy, that we refer to as God. I believe it has architected this existence, and many more realms of existence that we cannot comprehend.
But I don't need religion or the idea of who/what God is to shape and guide me any longer. I don't need a book, religion, or philosophy to teach me morals, to tell me to be a good person (or how to be a good person, for that matter), or to have faith. I have faith, and good moral fiber -- in spite of the religious upbringing I was subjected to.
Arrogant? Not hardly. It is all for a purpose.
I chose this existence before I arrived. Lesson learned. What's next?
It's all rather hilarious to me now. All the things that Christianity talks about -- they have called me heretical, blasphemer, and crazy since I left -- and how I embody all those things. Yet, in Christianity I see all the evil they are afraid of. What I don't understand is how they can hate me when I can put action to my love and faith and ways that they would never imagine. I love and give, but because I do not profess Jesus, or cling to millenia old man made doctrines, I am evil?
Obi-Wan: Anakin, the Sith are evil!
Anakin: From my point of view, the Jedi are evil!
From my point of view, the Christians are evil. Not through-and-through evil, but certainly misguided and full of the very things they seek to rid the world of.
I digress. This is getting off topic.
I would actually very much love to discuss this with you, Dear Reader, as this is certainly more of a dialogue than a monologue. I know some of my dear friends who read this still espouse some, if not many, Christian doctrines. Consider this an open forum to discuss them from different points of view.
Eve to Gordon: You own a Kuran? But you're not Muslim?
Gorden: I needn't be Muslim to find it's poetry moving, it's images beautiful.
Indeed.
Now you have no fear. You're completely free.
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