[spicin' it up]

Earlier today I was talking to Arleen about the awesome turnout religious-themed lectures and classes would get if they used catchier titles. Let’s face it, “Worship, Sacraments, and Liturgy: Theology and Praxis” doesn’t scream of thrills and chills. Utilizing one of my titles below, however, will not only add a little extra spice to the church bulletin or pamphlet, but it will guarantee maximum attendance and that each and every person will be MOTHERFUCKING STOKED AND READY TO LEARN.* If you’re reading this and you’re the parish priest at my church, YOU’RE WELCOME. And sorry for saying, “motherfucking.”

Possible Lecture/Class Titles for Catholics (but this technique can be applied to any lecture or class, regardless of subject matter)


1. The Liturgy: What Up Wit Dat?

2. The Eucharist: Are We a Bunch of Cannibals? (Bonus: you can incorporate the Zombie Jesus meme that’s popular with the young kids these days, thus increasing your target audience. I know, I know–I’m a genius!)

3. Say Whaaaaa? All About Confession

4. Saints: Yeah, They’re Pretty Cool

5. 19 Kids and Counting: Psych!!!! (This one’s about Natural Family Planning.)

6. Who’s Your Daddy? All About the Priesthood

7. Sister Act: The Truth About Nuns

8. A Priest, a Minister, and a Rabbi: An Ecumenical Discussion

And why we’re on the topic of spicing things up, can there be a rule or something requiring every church choir to sing the Sister Act version of Salve Regina? Do you know how disappointed I get when I hear a choir start to sing that song, ONLY TO REALIZE THEY’RE SINGING IT THE OLD, BORING WAY? I WANT THE CLAPPING, DAMMIT!

 

*I can’t guarantee jack. Sorry.

[to go back or not to go back?]

I’ve been wrestling with the idea of going to grad school. In fact, last week I made the decision to go back and start the early stages of the application process, but when it came time to actually start those early stages, I found myself shying away from the task. I’m doubting if this is the right decision.

Since re-dedicating my life to my faith, I’ve become aware that my knowledge of the Catholic Church’s catechism is woefully sub-par. It consists of the little I learned in my history classes growing up and the highlights touched on in my RCIA classes, which, together, are about the equivalent of a second grader’s. I researched a few items I had questions on, but what I really wanted was to be able to learn the ins and outs of the Church from an actual human, in a setting in which I could ask questions and engage in dialogue. Thus began my entertaining the notion of going to Saint Leo University for my Master’s in Theology.

At first I was concerned that my desire to go back to school was a phase I was going through. I am no stranger to phases in my life: in 3rd grade I begged and begged and BEGGED my parents to sign me up for karate after seeing a classmate’s big-ass Tae Kwon Do trophy during Show and Tell. When they finally acquiesced and I started taking classes, I found out that I hated karate and no trophy, no matter how big, was worth giving up my Saturday morning cartoons for. Similarly, I tried out for the cheerleading squad in seventh grade because I thought the outfits were cute. After going through the “boot camp” leading up to the try-outs in which we learned the cheers and dances, I knew I was not cut out for, nor had the desire for cheerleading. So naturally this sudden desire to go back to school gave me pause. I was not going to go through the process of applying and subsequently taking out student loans and committing myself to a two-year program for a phase. But after some reflection and prayer, I was confident that the reasoning behind this desire, which was to learn more about the Church and grow deeper in my faith, was sound and not some fleeting idea. This was when I definitively made the decision to go back. At first, I was at peace with my decision. Now I’m not so sure.

Quite frankly, I’m scared that I could be making the biggest financial mistake of my life. I was fortunate to have gotten my Bachelor’s degree without having to take out student loans. But if my early research is any indication, this might not be the case with grad school. I’ve estimated that my tuition alone would be around $10,000. Considering how much other programs cost, this isn’t bad–in fact, it’s less than my car loan. But it doesn’t take into account fees or books. And I’m terrified of doing the math, and then finding out that my calculations were wrong and it’s actually some exorbitant amount, like $30,000 and then it’s too late to back out. And then I’m stuck paying off loans for the rest of my life. What if this jeopardizes other dreams that I have, like traveling abroad? Buying a house some day? Funding a wedding without having to ask my parents for help?

It’s maddening, because I want to know exactly what’s going to happen up front before I even start the application process: if I’ll be able to get scholarship funding; if so, how much; if not, exactly how much my student loans will cost. I pray and obsess over it daily. And the conclusion I keep coming to, which is even more maddening, is that this decision will have to be made on faith. For example, I don’t know how much scholarship money I will get unless I start applying for scholarships. But in order to apply for scholarships, I must first apply to grad school and commit to going. And if I apply to grad school and commit to going and apply for scholarships, it’s not guaranteed that I will get anything. Same thing with loans: I won’t be able to work out an exact amount for student loans if I don’t apply and commit to going. It all keeps coming back to faith. If I make the decision to go to grad school, I have to have faith that God will guide me through the rest. I feel like I’m standing on the edge of a cliff, trying to decide whether or not to jump and trust that God will catch me. And I hate to admit this, but I don’t entirely trust that He will. Not yet, anyway.

EDIT: So I just did one of those cost projectors online, and while $10,000 for tuition alone isn’t bad, the ENTIRE cost for the full program, with fees and books tacked on, is $29,498.04. LOLROTFLMAO. Yeah, no. I can’t justify taking out that much in student loans for something that is a personal interest. I will just stick to reading books and looking up stuff online. Good one, higher education. Ya got me.

[paranormal activity wednesday]

Confession time, you guys: sometimes when I hear a weird noise or creak in my apartment, I automatically think it’s a ghost. Most of the time, this attribution is my attempt at trying to inject a little excitement into my life rather than an actual belief that a spirit decided to shack up. But on Wednesday night, karma decided to screw with me, and I honestly thought I was going to have a starring role in Paranormal Activity 4: You Wanted a Ghost, Now You’ve Got It! Good Luck Surviving, Dumbass. 


I was sitting on my couch reading a book, when I heard the noise at my back door. It sounded like a light scratching noise, followed by a shuffling sound. Before I had a dog, I would always chalk up the supposed “weird” noises I heard to either figments of my over-active imagination, or to just ordinary building noises. But having a dog that alerts on everything is kind of a good confirmation of your sanity. If I hear a noise and Ava doesn’t do anything, then it’s just a figment of my imagination. If I hear a noise and Ava alerts, then I know the sound is real and I’m not a crazy lady who hears imaginary things. And judging from the fact that she was growling and sniffing like she was trying to peel the paint off the door after I heard the noise, I was confident that it was real. And of course, it had to be a ghost. Because that’s logical.

I tried to ignore it and continued to read my book. Then I heard it again, and Ava started growling. For a brief moment, I thought that maybe the noise was a sign from God that I should stop reading my book (it’s the one written by Father Alberto Cutie), and I briefly felt guilty. Then I got over it and figured that if God really wanted me to stop reading the book, He would strike me with lightning or set the book on fire, all burning bush-style. So I went back to my ghost theory, and again tried to ignore the noise. I figured if I didn’t give the ghost any attention, it would get bored and leave.

I heard the noise again. This time, I decided to peek out the window to see who–or what– was out there. In a horror movie, this behavior would probably put me on the fast-track to a vicious gutting and dismemberment by an inbred, toothless hillbilly who complements me on the quality of my bones while doing the job. But since this was not a horror film, I was confident that wouldn’t happen despite the fact that the noise was probably a ghost or a demon waiting for the chance to the invade my body, all Exorcist-like.So, armed with nothing more than the weird, misplaced confidence that I wouldn’t get murdered, I walked over to the window, peeked through the blinds–

–and nothing. There was nothing to see. Now I was absolutely positive it was a ghost or demon spawn. Again, I picked up my book and tried to ignore it. I heard it again. My heart pounded with alarm. I heard it again. I grew defiant, determined to kick some supernatural ass. How dare ghosts and demons fuck around with my otherwise pleasant Wednesday night?! I’ll show them! I heard it again, and this time, it was louder, really scratching against my door. Determined to put an end to the shenanigans, I walked over to the door, threw it open, and confronted my “ghost:” a coupon door hanger. I had taken the one off my front door, but didn’t even think to check the back. It was a windy night, so the wind was blowing the hanger, which caused the scratching and shuffling sounds against the door. And the last noise I heard, the loud one, was the sound of the door hanger falling off.

Had this been a horror film, my opening the door would definitely have seen me get shot in the face or choked out by a psychotic zombie clown or something. But since it was real life, I meekly picked up the door hanger and went back to reading my book, glad that my ordinary Wednesday night saw at least a few minutes of excitement. Even if it was all in my head.