I'm not religous

I find it strange that evangelicals deny that they are religious. For evangelicals are very religious. But many play the game of denial equating religion with "human created rituals" as though many of the rituals they follow somehow fell from heaven complete and pure in form.

The hypocrisy of this position was again brought home to me last night when I caught up with a work mate and one of his friends at the Southern Cross Bar. Over a couple of wines the conversation ranged far and wide and eventually came to religion. At this point my friend mentioned that I was religious (my friend's an agnostic and on previous nights we have discussed the topic of god over a couple of wines). By not trying to deny that I was religious I was able to talk about God and find out what each of my colleagues thought. If I had denied that I was religious then I would have rightly been seen as a hypocrite and the chance for an open and honest discussion would have been lost.

I also wonder what certain religion denying evangelicals would have thought of having a couple of wines or beers in a pub with unbelievers. Maybe they would be too comfortable in their heaven sent and pure "non-religious" rituals to step in the door of a pub with the unbelievers and let a drop of alcohol pass their lips.

Wired

I'm feeling a bit wired at the moment. This morning started with a funeral of the brother of a friend of mine who died in the last few days. As a rule I hate funerals, and this one was no different. It was also one of the funerals that seemed to drag on for ever, and due to work I left before the end.

I hadn't had much to do with him in recent years, but I did go to a youth camp with him many years ago and ended up rooming with him. I remember he could tell tall stories and make them so believable you'd think they were true. So it was no surprise he got into sales and ended up very successful owning and operating one of the biggest car sales yards in Wellington. He had it all; a successful business, a beautiful partner, great kids. And just as he was reaping the rewards of all his hard work he was gone at just 40 years of age.

Then I was off to work which was uneventful until just near the end. Then things got interesting which often happens in my line of work. Things can be so quiet, then chaos. So I ended up having to sort out an incident just when I hoped to easing down to the end of shift. And when you have a shift like that it always takes a while to unwind and still the mind, hence why I am still up past the midnight hour.

But tomorrow (or should i say today) is another day :)

Time

The other night Huggies was filling out a form in which she had to fill in which age group she belonged to. Filling it in she exclaimed how old she felt, this coming from someone who was born in the year that I sat UE (the precursor to NCEA), to which I exclaimed "if that makes you old what does that make me".

Age it seems catches up with us all. My attempts to not grow up have failed dismally, as one of the clients I work with points out when he has me on about all the greys hairs that are coming though. And he has a point. I could try anti-greying treatments but that would only mask what is going on underneath. Time as they say stops for no man.

Do I have the same dreams as when I was in my twenties. Yes and no. Some dreams I've achieved, others have faded away into oblivion. Others are still there, unfulfilled like some sore that never heals. Then there are new ones. What will become of these? Will they be fulfilled? Will they die? Will they become another sore, another source of pain and frustration?

They are all questions that only time and God can reveal. In one sense it would be easier not to dream, much less painful, less frustrating. But to not dream is to not live.

3G

My diary is full
Racing from appointment to appointment
Blackberry in hand chiming
the miracles of 3G interconnectedness
I check on the latest machinations of Shortland Street
In between slurps of fair trade flat white
Roasted fresh each day

I sup deeply from the trough of emptiness
Though full I am never satiated

I amp up
Till my body heaves in time to the sensations that
Barrage me from every side

Blandly I flick my remote
Without thought. I am an automaton.
Images blurr, merging into white noise
Turning the volume to maximum
I drown out the empty silences
That masquerade as meaningful conversation

I am haunted by a ghost sent to taunt me
A gentle mumur, a question
Spoken in silence

Who will sit down to eat with the despised?

Will the real comedian stand up

Comedy is a strange thing, strange as in why laugh at all. Look at the recent success of for example “The Flight of the Concords”. Why are they so popular? What is it about "Its Business Time" that makes me make this strange and bizarre sound, and why is it that that "Business Time" or any number of skits, gags etc have a similar effect on me and others?

I have done the odd piece of comedy in the past. When I was young I use to do some skits with my brothers. I've also done a couple of pieces of stand-up comedy, one of which was at a singles camp a few years back, and another at a friends wedding. The really strange thing I found was that the feedback is so immediate and that I rode the response and energy of the audience. It was also really scary for what if I died on stage and no one found me funny. Every so often I think about having another go, but I then get busy or find another excuse for the fear of dying on stage is always there. And I've seen some stand-ups die badly.

But why should it be that some die, and others fly? What is it that makes something funny? Is it that comedy captures how ridiculous and painful life can be? Some of the best and funniest people I've met have had the saddest lives. The pain of their lives provides a cynical edge to their stories which we, the audience can relate to, for all of us have been through pain, loss, frustration, and embarrassment. And maybe comedy is a way of letting go of that pain, if only for a while.