Apparently Religion and Psychosis Don’t Mix Well

Hey you.

I spent the last week at LDS girls camp up in Big Bear. I went as an “adult leader.” Mostly, I “cooked.” And used finger quoties. Like “this.” Or “this”.

It was amazing, of course. The girls were sweet and hilarious and a total blast to (“not”) hang out with. According to one other cook, who shall, regrettably remain unnamed (regrettably, because I know if I told you, loyal readers, an unnamed particular among you might bump her off for me. Thanks for the offer anyway! I think we’re good!), I shouldn’t have been hanging out with them. Then everyone else told me later that I should just ignore that one old hooch.

Of course, being the loner that I am, I had to wander up the mountain and have a good cry first, and seriously consider going home, even though it had only been one day. Instead, I cursed her out…(in my head), and stuck with it.

The other ladies were really great, even though most of them were old enough to be my mother (and even grandmother!). This one woman kept trying to convince me that her son (whom I have never met) and I are perfect for each other.
Yeah.
And she kept saying what a sweetheart he is.
Yeah.
Apparently she thinks her sweetheart son should spend eternity with a sunshiney psychopath. Crazy…?

No, really, she was an awesome lady. I’m glad I met her. But religion and psychosis don’t mix.
I was reawakened to this notion early Friday morning. This was after spending a few days feeling wonderful and spiritual and having girls tell me they love me and having my testimony of the compassion and divinity of women reaffirmed. And then the evening ride down the mountain with my former bishop and his wife, with them telling me what a wonderful young woman I was and all that ridiculousness. They made me feel all silly and weepy, making me consider whether I’ve had such a positive impact as they say on the kids. I’unno ‘bout all that. I hope I’ve changed them for the better.

Yeah’anyway. I went and saw THE DARK KNIGHT a half hour after I got home, my hair still up in braids, finger nails painted a ridiculous color, no shower, no make-up. Oye, was I adorable!

The movie was… It was…

No. I can’t do a critique. It inspired me. It helped me get a read on the crazies in the audience. It made me want to build some kinda non-graven imagey tribute to this guy ----------------------------------->
But I came out pretty messed up after. Talk about an emotional overload. Within a few hours I had sat through a spiritual testimony meeting, a tiny tribute to my past goodness as a human being, and one explosiony, mind-deranging, I-was-afraid-to-laugh, semi-depressing film that I proceeded to see again 36 hours later.

Driving home, I was sobbing. It’s these moments, people, that make me think I’m a freak...like this guy!--------> I can’t tell you why I was crying. I think maybe it was just all those conflicting feelings inside me that I didn’t know quite how to deal with…? So, if any of you are ments (psychiatrists), feel free to give me a salty analysis. Cause this was a bit disturbing, this crying at 3 in the morning for no apparent reason.

Okay. So, I’m tired. Insomnia sucks. I’ma leave you alone now. Go see Dark Knight. It’s violent and disturbing. Don’t take anyone younger than ten or eleven, people, okay? Unless you want them turning out like this guy.
Which brings me to the theory of how he got those scars…

Nah, I won’t go into that now.
Sweet dreams 8/