Was watching this when my 16 year old daughter walked in.
She: “weak beat, but I get the avoid getting too high, and definitely avoid churches thing.”
Saganite, a haunter of demonssays
I like this one better:
slithey tove (twas brillig (stevem))says
When was dragged to mass every Sunday by my devout matriarch, I would cope by simply (1) “zoning out”. Which I’ve since learned that psychologist call it “occupying the nothing box”, (2) letting my eyes remain motionless to cause the pigment inversion the retina does from being too saturated. It was a relief to escape by attending college in a separate city and let my Sundays be literal relaxation.
thank you letting me share my story
jrkrideausays
@ 3 slithey tove It was a relief to escape by attending college in a separate city and let my Sundays be literal relaxation.
Not quite so dramatic but in first year, I realized that no one would notice if I did not show up to church so just stopped going.
EigenSprocketUKsays
Slithery Tove, In church I used to count up to 1024 on my fingers, then back down again. I also did the motionless eyes thing you describe: it was far more difficult, and much more of an achievement!
vucodlaksays
When I was a little kid (under 5 years old) I had a tendency to enjoy church by loudly singing songs about dinosaurs during the hymns. When I was a bit older, I doodled on whatever paper was available.
It wasn’t until confirmation class (started at age 12) that I got the fear of Hell and started taking church seriously. By that I mean I spent most of the time alternately silently groveling and wallowing in a running self-loathing confession of my litany of sins. Occasionally I’d surreptitiously stab myself in the leg with a mechanical pencil for having a sinful thought during my time in “God’s house.” Whenever I had some part in the service, like altar duty or communion, I’d obsess over it until it was finally done, praying I wouldn’t throw up front of God and the whole church and seal my damnation. I had an esophageal ulcer by the time I was 14. Fun times.
During services one Sunday, when I was about 15, I was overcome with the spirit. To put it another way: I had to get the fuck out of there before I did something gratuitously stupid. I quietly excused myself during the sermon, pleading stomach cramps. Instead of going to the bathroom, I all-but-ran outside. I burst through the doors and took deep, cleansing lungfuls of the crisp fall air. I didn’t quite shriek when I realized I was not alone on the church steps, but it was a near thing.
Leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette, was a girl about my age. I didn’t recognize her, which was a point in her favor. I recognized her dress as the sort of boring Sunday attire we all wore for the sake of others, but her nails were black and the first words out of her mouth were profanity. Three points in her favor. She told me her parents, alarmed by her sartorial choices and fondness for pentagrams, were dragging her to different churches, and asked me if it was always this boring. I laughed and said that unfortunately it was. Then I asked her if she was a demon; she laughed and led me into temptation.
Fun times.
microraptorsays
I’m glad that I sufficiently annoyed my mom that she stopped dragging to church before I was out of grade school.
The funny thing is that she’s not religious, she just thought that going to church was important for socialization. I told her that socialization could be done without spending hours listening to boring sermons. She eventually stopped going.
I was never high, and I only ever was in church once. It was remarkable experience. The dulllness and pointlessness of the mass were totaly unsurpassed by anything I experienced before.
Ragutissays
Been there. Done that. Though my experiences were a bit more enjoyable and less clouded with paranoia. I’m sure that it helped that my church was pretty laid back and I tended to go to the Youth/guitar service. I’ll leave what else I may or may not have done in a church for other threads.
Was watching this when my 16 year old daughter walked in.
She: “weak beat, but I get the avoid getting too high, and definitely avoid churches thing.”
I like this one better:
When was dragged to mass every Sunday by my devout matriarch, I would cope by simply (1) “zoning out”. Which I’ve since learned that psychologist call it “occupying the nothing box”, (2) letting my eyes remain motionless to cause the pigment inversion the retina does from being too saturated. It was a relief to escape by attending college in a separate city and let my Sundays be literal relaxation.
thank you letting me share my story
@ 3 slithey tove
It was a relief to escape by attending college in a separate city and let my Sundays be literal relaxation.
Not quite so dramatic but in first year, I realized that no one would notice if I did not show up to church so just stopped going.
Slithery Tove, In church I used to count up to 1024 on my fingers, then back down again. I also did the motionless eyes thing you describe: it was far more difficult, and much more of an achievement!
When I was a little kid (under 5 years old) I had a tendency to enjoy church by loudly singing songs about dinosaurs during the hymns. When I was a bit older, I doodled on whatever paper was available.
It wasn’t until confirmation class (started at age 12) that I got the fear of Hell and started taking church seriously. By that I mean I spent most of the time alternately silently groveling and wallowing in a running self-loathing confession of my litany of sins. Occasionally I’d surreptitiously stab myself in the leg with a mechanical pencil for having a sinful thought during my time in “God’s house.” Whenever I had some part in the service, like altar duty or communion, I’d obsess over it until it was finally done, praying I wouldn’t throw up front of God and the whole church and seal my damnation. I had an esophageal ulcer by the time I was 14. Fun times.
During services one Sunday, when I was about 15, I was overcome with the spirit. To put it another way: I had to get the fuck out of there before I did something gratuitously stupid. I quietly excused myself during the sermon, pleading stomach cramps. Instead of going to the bathroom, I all-but-ran outside. I burst through the doors and took deep, cleansing lungfuls of the crisp fall air. I didn’t quite shriek when I realized I was not alone on the church steps, but it was a near thing.
Leaning against the building, smoking a cigarette, was a girl about my age. I didn’t recognize her, which was a point in her favor. I recognized her dress as the sort of boring Sunday attire we all wore for the sake of others, but her nails were black and the first words out of her mouth were profanity. Three points in her favor. She told me her parents, alarmed by her sartorial choices and fondness for pentagrams, were dragging her to different churches, and asked me if it was always this boring. I laughed and said that unfortunately it was. Then I asked her if she was a demon; she laughed and led me into temptation.
Fun times.
I’m glad that I sufficiently annoyed my mom that she stopped dragging to church before I was out of grade school.
The funny thing is that she’s not religious, she just thought that going to church was important for socialization. I told her that socialization could be done without spending hours listening to boring sermons. She eventually stopped going.
I was never high, and I only ever was in church once. It was remarkable experience. The dulllness and pointlessness of the mass were totaly unsurpassed by anything I experienced before.
Been there. Done that. Though my experiences were a bit more enjoyable and less clouded with paranoia. I’m sure that it helped that my church was pretty laid back and I tended to go to the Youth/guitar service. I’ll leave what else I may or may not have done in a church for other threads.