Updates.

I'm very slowly updating my blogroll and other linkstuffs, so anyone reading should take a look over at the sidebar and see if you find anything interesting (or yourself, for that matter).

In which the blogger once again resorts to YouTube.

Okay, so it's not resorting the way the Mighty Mouse thing was--as in, I feel these things are at least somewhat pertinent. Mostly because I've been thinking a lot about religion and faith, coupled with thoughts from my current US history class about changing perspectives on such (how many Jesuses are there?), and spending time with a friend I hadn't seen in a while in a coffee shop we used to have a Bible study in.

So, well, here:

Iron and Wine with "Sodom, South Georgia":



Sufjan Stevens (I am a hip little shit, aren't I?) with "To Be Alone With You":



And Jars of Clay with "Something Beautiful":



"Something Beautiful" is my me-and-Jesus theme song. Or "Jealous Kind," by the same band, depending.

And a quick-and-dirty poem-thing by yours truly:


The love of you--

Gentle savior, how you wound me.
Did you know your blood
would poison the ground?
Beautiful lover, did you see the wars?

Tell me again how you wept.
Tell me again how the drops of blood made dusty splashes in the garden.
Tell me again how you died.

Teach me again to sing you, I've forgotten the words.

*buuuuuh*

I've found lately that looking at fundamentalist Christian websites, books, videos, practices, etc, makes me feel dirty.

Buuuuuh, get it off me.

I grew up in a Southern Baptist church, I did the purity pledge thing, I went on mission trips. I "witnessed" to my friends (for those not familiar with weird xian jargon, to witness to somebody is to tell them about Jesus in the hopes that they'll decide to convert. Not necessarily as creepy as it sounds). But it never made me feel skeeved out, unclean, or intellectually violated like looking at the Purity Ball or Quiverfull or Mars Hill or what have you stuff does now.

The key difference is probably that my five-point Calvinist and seven-day creationist, yet uber-beloved youth pastor really, truly wanted us to think. Bring your Bibles with you to church, he said. Pray and think about what I'm telling you and what the other preachers and Sunday school teachers are telling you. If you don't agree with us, that's okay.

And sometimes (maybe a lot of the time), I disagreed with him, and that was okay. And when he decided he was wrong about something he had taught us, he told us, and apologized, and told us what he'd learned.

Looking back now, I can say I swallowed a little too much of his more conservative doctrine, but I did so of my own free will (pretty funny for the student of a Calvinist, eh?). And being taught to think about my shit made it, if not easy, at least not near-impossible to change my mind and learn and grow. And not having it shoved down my throat made it possible for me to see the love of the god I believe in, and return that love in my human and imperfect way. I can pretty accurately say that he was probably the biggest influence on what I believe, even if I don't believe in a lot of things he believes in. Here's to you, Mr. Youth Guy.

So feeling like I'm having some nasty, hateful doctrine forced upon me is actually a fairly new sensation, and it's totally grossing me out. Ew ew ew.

Delayed Creep-Out

As seems to be usual, I am behind. I just found out about Purity Balls.

Oh god, the creepy. The middle-aged dads, the dressed-up teenage girls, the vows (someone please tell the author of the vows that "cover" is a word for animal sex), the ring exchange...creepy creepy creepy.

Unfortunately, the video that seems to have sparked the discussion in 2006 has disappeared into the ether waves, but I rounded up some other pertinent links:

Would you pledge your virginity to your father? (Glamour magazine)

Purity Ball (short documentary following a father and daughter)

Hey Little Girl... (thoughtful vlog about the Balls)

Serious ew (belledame on the subject of creepy controlling sexuality, Purity Balls included)

Purity and Danger (Queen Emily on the dangers of daughters reserving their sexuality for their fathers)

*shudder*

I took an abstinence pledge in February 2002, which would have made me about 15, through the True Love Waits program.

I even got the ring, see:















I still have it--it doesn't fit anymore due to me inexplicably losing a ring size. I still wear a ring in it's place though, because it would feel seriously weird to not have one (and I need balance for the rings on the other hand).

But this whole virginity thing is wearing kind of thin. Though I was interested in boys when I made that pledge, it was basically the same sort of interest I'd felt since I was about five. This whole virginity thing seemed clear cut and easy, to a young girl who found the idea of kissing with tongue distasteful (ew, slobber).

And now, I'm old enough to do anything but rent a car, basically, and in a good relationship with a boy I love and trust and desire. And if I decide to marry this kid, it will be, oh, five years? of waiting before we're both done enough with school to be able to move to the same city on a more or less permanent basis and get our shit straight so we can get married. And five years of horny youth is a long time.

And, beyond that, I'm pretty much positive that it will be difficult for me to not clutch my "purity" with such a tight fist once I'm married. One gets used to the idea that Sex Is Bad.

(Note, in the Glamour article, one girl says she worries that she might disappoint her husband by not being pleasured by his fucking. Poor kid, won't even allow herself to worry about her own pleasure except for how it might displease her owner.)

I know a number of people who would be appalled at me not upholding abstinence-until-marriage as wonderful and Godly and something everyone should do. But neither they nor my father owns me, and they don't get to say what I believe anymore.

Before this post falls apart utterly (I have a headache forming and I'm tired), I would like to say that my parents didn't push me into the True Love Waits thing at all. In fact, I recall my mom seeming a bit reluctant to buy me that ring. I found that odd but didn't think about it at the time; I now figure it's because they knew it was kind of a dumb idea.

Perhaps "homemaker" is a better word than "housewife" or "stay at home mom"...

-11 As a 1930s wife, I am Very Poor (Failure) Take the test!

Hah. Letting my bra strap show totally did me in. How fucking nitpicky is this test? "Wears red nail polish"? "Seams on stockings often crooked"?

67 As a 1930s husband, I am Superior Take the test!

A much shorter and easier test, indeed. Were all 1930s husbands complete wifebeating louts, that I am so superior?

...actually, considering what I've heard from my family, that's entirely likely.