Where am I on Christmas Eve? Starbucks. It’s calm… and open.
To understand where I am at mentally, I have to write about what happened last night. Yesterday I had to go to a rehearsal… where I only did 15 minutes of rehearsing. #peoplesuck. I got pissed because everything was going wrong and when I tried to show why I was ignored and told that I was the one that was wrong. I might have been wrong, but I don’t know because the assumption in the church is that I am always wrong. Even the choir director, who is usually calm was pissed. So much so that he made the threat of not allowing the choir to participate because of how much the choir sucked and couldn’t get their act together. To this we have to add that the one that was “guiding” the process has no training in music and sound system (or efficient rehearsal procedures, for that matter), which tried to do efficiency in a way that didn’t take into account that 80% of participants are either over 60 years old of under 12 years old and that one cannot have them standing calmly for 20-45 minutes of a hour and a half service. That’s going to be fun (sarcastic tone)! We have a manager working on something where we don’t need a manager. But that won’t change… yet. I left the rehearsal pissed off. I called my father, who made the right decision in not going to the rehearsal, and told him to mentally prepare himself for a crappy service.
I had to calm myself and think this rehearsal thing critically before going to sleep. I understood why my father is quiet during these sucky rehearsals: it’s easier to not say anything and suffer whatever he has to suffer silently than speaking up and getting pissed off because of what is happening and because he is not being heard.
Now, more than 12 hours later, I am somewhat calm. Calm like a plot of land feels after a natural disaster like a hurricane or a tornado. I still need to think the situation through, because no one is the innocent victim. I have to think it through because I need for those situations to be handled better, and the only part that I can make better is myself. I have to be better. For God.
My father called me asking me if I wanted to have Christmas Eve lunch at his place. I don’t want to. Not because of him, but because of what the house represents. It’s the house that I grew up in (or tried to grow up in). It’s the house where my mother lives. It’s the house where I went through all of the emotional trauma that my family caused. It’s the house of restriction. As much as I like spending time with my father, I am not fond of the house because of what it represents. My family wasn’t all bad, because I am a Christian because as a response to the exposure to Christian ideas and values. But I have to admit that I am glad that I left the house and grew into myself fully.
I told my father that I am thinking. He knows how part of what I feel about being there, so I know that he will understand if I decline. That doesn’t make the process any easier.
I know that it is Christmas Eve, but it doesn’t feel like it. I guess that this is what happens when I have nothing to help me keep the time. It feels like any other day. I’m not exited really… until I think about the fact that I have no church tonight (which means that I have the night off). I have church tomorrow, because it happens to be that my church started its existence on a 25 of December. Oh well. I have to enjoy this day for what it is.