The stupid idiot and her very long fall

I really screwed up this time.

Really. I don’t think anyone’s ever been this stupid.

Last night, I worked a double shift at Deena’s, and everything went wrong. The milk was spoiled because of the power outage, but Deena had me cook with it anyway. She said the bad stuff would be boiled out. Anyways, all the customers sent their food back, and I had to dodge about 6 coffee mugs that came flying in my direction from some angry trucker who doesn’t like drinking bad milk. In my haste to get away from the rapidly forming mob, I slipped and took the plates, coffee maker, cups, and silverware down with me. The sounds of shattering glass and clanging metal were too much for me to handle. I left all the money I had in my wallet on the counter for Deena, and I ran out. That job was definitely over.

I’m such an idiot, I can’t even hold a job.

My life away from God has been so messed up. I dated a clown, I was flat broke, and I couldn’t even serve food that didn’t make some one’s stomach churn. I’m pathetic. It was time for me to turn back to God, and I knew it. The thing was, how could I possibly earn His forgiveness? I turned my back on God, the church, and all of the people that I vowed to help when I became a nun. How could anyone forgive that? I needed to get away from it all and just talk to God about everything and see if there was any chance in Hell that he would forgive me. See? Look at me, I’m still saying Hell. There’s no redemption for me.

I didn’t have anywhere to go but home, and I tried praying there for a while, but it didn’t feel right in that dingy apartment. I decided to take my pleas to the roof of Watershed Heights and be as close to God as possible. I walked to the stairs, and I started climbing. I don’t know how many stories i went or how many stairs I climbed, but I know that I was thinking about what I would say to God the whole way up. I would try to explain myself, try to justify what I had done. I would apologize, but I would try to get God to see reason. I needed Him to understand.

When I reached the top, I had planned everything. I knew exactly what I was going to say. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I just fell to my knees and groveled before God, asking Him to please forgive me and let me go back to Him. I collapsed in tears like a child who lost their teddy bear. I was returning to my God, and all i could do was cry like a child.

I am so stupid.

I don’t know how long i was up there before the storm came. All I know is that I took it as a sign. God was angry, and he was letting me know it. Lightning bounced off the buildings around me, and thunder shook the Earth so hard, I thought I was going to fall through it. I didn’t care. God was speaking to me. He may not have been happy, but He was acknowledging me. I was at least worth that.

But I’m still dumb as dirt.

I wanted God to know that I was listening, so I stepped up to the edge of the building, right out in the open. I tilted my head back and let the rain wash over me, as if it were cleansing my sins. I barely even felt the electricity spreading through my body. It just felt like a little tingle. If you had told me that a lightning bolt was rapidly destroying my body, I would have laughed. I had no clue.

What’s wrong with me?

I may not have felt the lightning,  but I felt the fall. I’m feeling the fall. I don’t think I’ll ever land. I don’t think I want to.

I have that feeling in my gut that you get right before a roller coaster goes shooting down a hill, but this time it’s different. I’ve also got that feeling that this is it. I’m not coming back from this. It’s almost relieving. I’m trying to pray. I want to salvage what hope I have left for eternal life, but I don’t know if it’s going to work.

I’m still falling. It’s like my world has come to a stop even though I know that it’s rapidly coming to an end.

I always knew that I’d turn back to God, I just thought I’d have more time. I thought I would have years to make up for my betrayal. I thought I’d live. I’m 26. 26. I never got married, I never had a family. I guess I never would have as a nun anyway, but it’s hard not to think about that.

My life should be flashing before my eyes, but I’m only thinking about what’s never going to happen. And I’m okay with it. I should be afraid, but I’m relieved. I don’t know if I’m going to Heaven or if I’m even going anywhere, but I’m going. It’s too late to turn back now, the pavement is getting closer by the millisecond.

But right now, I’m falling. I’m a stupid idiot who climbed the apartment building in a lightning storm and didn’t think twice. I’m the brainless nun who turned her back on God and just hopes that He’ll forgive her. It’s funny, really, that one person can make such a mess of her life. I’m the dunce who can’t even worry about that, because she’s just enjoying the fall. Tomorrow, I’ll be the moron on the street, smashed into a million pieces. But for now, I’m falling.

And I like it that way.

I thought I was done with Deena

A week passed since my visit to Deena's 24 hour diner, and I wasn't ever planning on going back. Looks like things have changed.

I was sitting in my apartment, looking through the job advertisements, when all of the power suddenly shut off. I moved to the window to get some more light and carried on with my business. An hour or two passed, and the fresh(ish) scent of pie began to waft through the window. I couldn't help myself.

I wandered down the street, following the smell, and it wasn't until I smacked head first into a human wall that I realized I was at Deena's once again. The line stretched across the street and down a few blocks, and I was met with shouts and groans, telling me to stop trying to cut the line and go somewhere else. These people get mean when they're hungry. I had nothing better to do, so I figured I'd join the line. 3 hours later, I was met at the door by Deena herself, letting us all know that the pie had run out. Shouts insued, but I didn't mind. I wasn't hungry, I was just itching to get off of my feet. A few of us shuffled inside just to sit. Once I settled in, I noticed a man next to me counting the number of lights that have gone out and calculated the amount of electricity that would run through the city every day. He seemed nice enough, but I didn't want to disturb him. He seemed like the type to lose his mind when even the slightest calculation was off.

I made my way over to the counter to talk to Deena. Yes, she scares me a bit, and yes, she may have been a man, but at least she's company. We got to talking, and it turns out we share a lot of the same interests. We both like helping people out, we've both had our struggles with religion, and we're both trying to find our place in this messed up town. I mentioned my job hunt to her, and she told me that I was welcome to come bus tables at the diner. It pays $4.50 an hour, but that's $4.50 I wouldn't have made on my own.

Looks like Old Agnes is finally fending for herself. PRAISE JESUS.

Back to the soup

I am so sick of eating soup.

All I ever do is cook soup, taste soup, ladle soup, and eat soup for every meal. Something has got to change. My job search hasn't yielded any results so far, so the soup kitchen is still my home. I've got to get out of here and get to a restaurant.

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Now I know why I didn't go out to these restaurants before. They're disgusting. I had some trouble deciding where to eat at first, because I've never heard any talk of what's good and what's not. I thought I'd try the Vietnamese restaurant, but Hans-Georg ran through the door screaming as I tried to enter. I went with him. What good could possibly come from that restaurant?

I walked around for a while and finally decided on Deena's 24 hour diner. You know those movies where the people who work at the diners act all nice and hospitable and then kill you and serve you to their next customer? I'm pretty sure that goes down at Deena's. I decided to let that go and try to enjoy my meal. I stayed away from the meat though.

I ordered a grilled cheese sandwich and coke to start off. Simple, I know.... but I thought I should transition into solid food a bit slowly. The cheese felt like rubber, and I'm pretty sure they just dunked the bread in grease before they put it on my plate. The sandwich was literally floating. All I could think about was how nice it was that I had a coke to wash that taste down, but even that was gross. It was flat and warm, and the absolute opposite of refreshing. $5.60 down the drain.

I spent more of my time watching everybody in the restaurant than focusing on my food, because I didn't want to vomit all over the floor. At least, I tried to watch the people. The only other signs of life in there with me were Deena (who may have, in one life, been named David) and a sketchy man in the corner in a trenchcoat and Fedora. I didn't even want to know. Long story short, I choked down what I could and got the hell out. Soup will do it for me for a while.

Anybody have the classifieds section?

On my weekly trip to the Stop n’ Shop to get soup supplies, I noticed something a little shady going down. I was walking out with my groceries when a couple of men in translucent pantyhose masks casually walked in, picked up the ATM, and walked out. The cashier started to protest, but I think he decided that it wasn’t worth it. Nobody uses that machine anyways.

This was the first week that I realized what quitting my job really meant. No money. Maybe I should have gotten in on the ATM robbery. I’ve got a fair amount of savings left, but I’m going to need to stop buying a new box of wine every week. I love volunteering at the soup kitchen, but I’m going to need to find a paying job within the next few weeks if I want to keep eating. I wonder what I could do?

Let’s see....

Real-estate? No. Nobody wants to move here.
Waitress? I’m too clumsy. I’d drop plates all over everywhere. I would definitely get fired.
Stripper? Ha.
Cop? Not here. Those cops didn’t even notice the masked thieves loading an ATM into their parking lot.
Cashier at the food vendor place? Nah. I saw Alice Taylor over there doing coke with Pastor Dan and some crazy guy that kept saying he was winning. That’s not my thing.
Desk clerk? Maybe. I’ll think on it.

I thought about scrapping a job completely and going on the road with my clown, but I had to break up with him. I don’t think I can handle all the travel. And I caught him messing around with a hot female fire-breather. Yeah... it was mostly the fire-breather thing.

I’ll need to keep thinking about a job. If anybody has any offers, I’m glad to hear them.

LIFE!

Do you know what freedom feels like? Freedom is the chance to run barefoot through town, dropping the F-bomb whenever I feel like it. Freedom is serving Campbell’s at the soup kitchen instead of making it myself. Freedom is reading any book other than the Bible. Freedom is wearing jeans. JEANS. And T-shirts. Hell, freedom is wearing tank tops that barely cover my naughty parts. For the first time in my life, I’m free.

I thought long and hard about my decision to put my life with Christ on hold. I’m sure it’s not a choice that God would be proud of, and I may one day regret it, but that day is not today. Last week, as I sat in the soup kitchen, horrified that I had somehow jinxed the carnival, I realized that I was stuck. My days consisted of prayer and cooking, and I was slowly losing my sanity. I don’t know if this break will go on for the rest of the week or the rest of my life, but I know that I need to walk on a new path for a while.

My first step in this new path? Going out on a date. With a clown. That’s right, a clown. It was the first date I had ever been on, and it was wonderful. He rode into the soup kitchen on a unicycle and stole my heart. He’s not the type that I would immediately bring home to my mother, but he makes me feel alive. Clowns don’t make much money, and neither do recently-unemployed nuns (I still volunteer at the soup kitchen), so we snuck into the fair after closing for our first date. We ate leftover pickled eggs and corn dogs, with some cotton candy for dessert. We ate  in the bumper cars, some of which were inhabited by other clowns. Brian Bunderson rolled through the carnival a few times as though he were lost, and he acted like he had no limbs. All four were clearly intact, but I wasn’t concerned about his apparent insanity. I was preoccupied by my date.  It wasn’t much, but it was perfect.

A new path?

I think I’m jinxed. The second I talk about how happy I am because of this carnival, it all goes to Hell (Maybe I shouldn’t have said “Hell.” God forgive me). A fire broke out in the food trailer, causing a great ruckus and freaking everyone out. People were running around, screaming words that should never be heard by any God-fearing man or woman. Anyways, it was bad. And I caused it.

I’m starting to believe that I’m not cut out for being a nun.  I don’t like wearing the same blue habit every day, I don’t like telling people that God’s word is the only way, I don’t like being single, and I don’t like having to watch my tongue. It’d be nice if I could just drop a cuss word every now and then like a normal person. Oh ... and nobody liked my cotton candy soup. How can I be a good nun if I can’t even feed good food to the hungry? Maybe I should retire.

Open your arms and welcome the joy of today!

Sun.

Finally.

The wet, slushy mess of almost-snow has cleared out, and I can actually look forward to going outside! People have stopped sleeping in the soup kitchen, and that has given me the chance to sit down and have some time to myself during work. I've decided to use this time to think of some more recipes for the kitchen. I've gotten tired of slicing tomatoes.

My first new recipe is sure to please. It's creative, tasty, and colorful. I think I'm going to win some awards with this one. The secret ingredient? Cotton candy. I guess it's not so much of a secret now that I've told you this, but this is just too great of an idea for me to hide! Soup that doubles as a dessert. Brilliant.

This wonderful idea was inspired by the carnival that has come into town. It's not the most put-together of carnivals (none of the rides could really be described as safe), but I'm confident that God is keeping everyone intact. A carnival is what this town really needed – something fun.

Actually, my best experience so far at the carnival was when the ferris wheel shut down. There weren't enough cars for everyone to ride alone, so I paired up with the sweetest little old woman named Babushka. We didn't really acknowledge each other until the ride suddenly jerked to a stop. Turns out that old ladies aren't huge fans of danger. Babushka was pretty frightened, and let some Russian words skip that I'm pretty sure God wouldn't like very much. I put a hand on her shoulder to show that I was there to help, and she gave me a look of sincere appreciation. My gesture didn't really calm her nerves or her colorful language, but it was the first time since I've been here that I've felt genuinely appreciated. In my months of living here and working myself to the bone, all i had to do was put my hand on a woman's shoulder. Funny.

God has certainly resurfaced in this town. I was at the end of my rope a few weeks ago, but I'm climbing back up now. I don't know if it's the happiness that the carnival brought or the much-needed sunshine, but I'm starting to look forward to everyday here. Let's hope this lasts.