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#Pentecostals
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Actually, no, I haven't really changed at all since middle school. I'm still the same deeply creative weirdo with ever-growing eclectic interests. A happily blooming nerd. If I learned about something in school, I wanted to explore it at home, on my own. That's really how the electronics disaster happened. I'm actually incredibly grateful Mom and Dad monitored my Internet use. I am way too curious sometimes. And I have to see shit for myself extremely often.
I wasn't let back out properly as a specific part until sometime in the sixth grade. It was partially the cats, but also realizing Nanny probably wouldn't be around much longer. So when she did die, I was more relieved than anything else. I used to feel bad that I hadn't cried for her.
But she was stifling me and trying to tell me what to be. She didn't like me being curious about makeup? I was low-key kinda thrilled when I got makeup for Christmas in my senior year of high school. I like color. A lot. I used to constantly change my favorite color. Now I just say I love the entire rainbow.
And I had to hide that I absolutely loved Pokémon. I think she thought it was glorifying violence, but it's more like competitive high-contact sports. Either that, or it was the racism. Frankly, probably both. It's probably the one thing she might have been worse than foster care about. But honestly, watching all the stuff that had to do with entirely different cultures was so good for me. It still exposed me to to new ideas and lessons when I actually needed it. Among them, I started passively absorbing any little bit when Taoism or Buddhism were significant themes. Paired with Bible study on Saturday morning, I guess I managed better than I thought.
She was surprisingly ok with when I was really into western fantasy like Sabrina the Teenage Witch. I think she was also ok with Power Rangers and ThunderCats (the original). At least she validated my love of learning new things and legit gave me old text books (that I don't know where she even got) to look at science subjects at home.
I think that really started in the seventh grade when I got so obsessed with astronomy and in particular, black holes. It just amazed me how unfathomably massive the universe is. How far it goes, how long even light takes to travel through it. I couldn't help but find the divine in the actual, physical cosmos. And it was there with every part of it. I would think, ‘How can everything in this physical reality be bad if God had said it was good in the beginning? Surely we haven't corrupted everything. Cats and dogs know about compassion, in a sense. That's good and beautiful.’
It wasn't hard at all to be better than foster care, but she actually was. She did encourage me to ask questions if I was confused. She clarified a lot of the literalist theology so I could start to understand it. I think I asked to study the bible with her, with that very hope. According to Dad, she could keep up with devout Catholics. I had two different children's bibles at her trailer, plus she bought me my own standard bible when I was ten, for my birthday. She and Mom took me to the book store at the mall, and had them print my casual first name with my last name at the bottom right corner of the front in silver letters.
Fun fact, someone actually jokingly asked if I'd grown up Catholic because of my apparently deep knowledge of Christianity. That was during the summer last year. The irony of my current proximity to the nearest Catholic church is not lost on me.
What fucked me back up was how I was treated during high school a lot by peers and family, and largely I just got angrier more than anything else. I was trying my best to do better when it all started going downhill fast again. But apparently I was still not good enough. My cousins suddenly became spoiled brats because of my needs frequently not being met entirely, but they seemed so much better adjusted. They didn't understand, and I didn't know how to break my silence. So I started lashing out because i really didn't have the social skills I needed. So yeah, I was definitely an asshole at times. The bullshit from foster care got a refresh, and I was forced to submit to their training again.
Never had any serious issues with Grandma, though in typical moody teenager fashion, I was sometimes a brat.
There's a reason I didn't really come out of my shell again until my junior year of high school. I decided to try to be more brave the year before, since I knew I'd graduate in Ohio. I got better at my art and creative writing, and it seemed to give me a way to connect with others. I decided to go for the culinary class at the career center because hey--good food--and the only thing that was in question was my literal birth date and legal age restrictions with the student restaurant. I got in. Mom and Dad made absolutely sure it was paid for. So I decided to do another nuts thing and go try out for the spring musical. I met one of my closest friends that way. Truly a charismatic character (gonna tag you, @themerrymutants I miss you). I felt accepted and encouraged, like family is supposed to make you feel.
Memories are really just flooding in now, it's a just lot to process. Maybe it's because while answering the person on anon, I opened up a lot of my own psychological cupboards. I never really said a lot of that at once, let alone even explained my logic behind it all. It put a lot of things into perspective for me.
And I just can't help but think, oh, shit, I actually am competent. But I was constantly second-guessing myself because so many of the people around me were hellbent on judging everything I did. Now I understand that in those cases, they most likely feared how authentic I am. Some people, more or less depending on where I was at any given time, thought I was pretty cool because I was so authentic.
I stopped fronting almost entirely when Mom died. I still hadn't recovered at all from literally anything, and didn't know how to handle that. It took cycling through different roles to find something productive for me. I shattered, and ended up pushing most of my remaining idealism into the then-evolving Lilitu.
But I was always at my best when I was true to myself. There were still plenty of people who loved me for who I really was. And that was just enough to keep going. That is precisely what fueled my spite against others who didn't like me. And Mom sure as fuck never quit going.
-Era 🍎😺
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in-sightpublishing · 29 days
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The craziness of 50,000 religions
Publisher: In-Sight Publishing Publisher Founding: March 1, 2014 Web Domain: http://www.in-sightpublishing.com Location: Fort Langley, Township of Langley, British Columbia, Canada Journal: In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal Journal Founding: August 2, 2012 Frequency: Three (3) Times Per Year Review Status: Non-Peer-Reviewed Access: Electronic/Digital & Open Access Fees: None…
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escaping-amish · 10 months
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I love how he finds the words to describe the concepts that float around my head daily ❤️❤️❤️❤️ love him!
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nycreligion · 1 year
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Killed, Pentecostals in Ukraine with church roots in NYC
Yaroslav Pavenko. Photo: Ukrainian Pentecostal Church Yaroslav “Slava” Pavenko, a twenty-two-year-old chaplain, was helping to lead a worship service, when he had to duck, along with everybody else, under cars and shelters as rockets from the invaders came. The air shuddered and hummed. He wore a bulletproof vest and helmet, but a fragment from a projectile slipped underneath. The chaplain was…
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sersi · 1 year
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Pacific Rim (2013) dir. Guillermo Del Toro
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thinking abt stacker pentecost feeling his drift partner die in his mind and then somehow, somehow carrying on, standing alone when no one had ever done that before, burning as the radiation threatened to consume his mind and body. thinking about pentecost winning that impossible fight and stumbling out of the corpse of his jaeger - skin smoking and body screaming and mind gaping from the loss of his partner, looking out at a battlefield of gray and blood and emptiness, of death and metal and alien flesh and then out from it all stepping a little girl, just a tiny girl clutching her shoe like her bleeding heart in her hand, staring up at him with an awe that strikes him deeper than the radiation ever could. she smiles at him like he is the sun, like he is her messiah, and in that moment, he feels his breath start in his chest again. through her he remembers what he is doing this for, who he is suffering for. through her he finds the beauty of humanity, the goodness in every person he is fighting to protect. he goes down to her, his mind and body burning, and he carries her home. she carries her shoe, and he carries her. both of them hold their hearts in their hands.
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taintedmind666 · 2 months
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cuties-in-codices · 2 months
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pentecost (the descent of the holy spirit upon mary and the apostles in jerusalem)
illustration from a gospel lectionary, constance (?), c. 1470-80
source: St. Gallen, Stiftsbibl., Cod. Sang. 368, p. 44
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californiannostalgia · 2 months
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Things I noticed on my Pacific Rim rewatch:
1. Raleigh had his left arm ripped off while he was piloting the left hemisphere, then had his right arm and leg shredded while he was piloting the right hemisphere. Holy fuck he has been through it. His resilience and battle focus is enough to be recognized by Pentecost, whose solo Tokyo battle was three hours long.
2. Implied that Hercules Hansen was one of the OGs, like Cherno Alpha. Wonder what happened to his copilot before he began drifting with his son. Wonder what happened to the Jaeger he piloted before Striker Eureka.
3. Pentecost says he carries nothing into the drift, but that just means he knows how to match with anyone, right? Wonder what that final drift was like in Chuck Hansen's head.
4. Tendo Choi is in command of the bridge when neither Pentecost nor Herc Hansen is present. I forgot that he reverts to Cantonese in stress situations, love these details.
5. I enjoy the bilinguals of this film. Also really interesting choice to focus on the western rim of the Pacific Ocean: Australians, Japanese, Chinese, Russians, and a badass Marshal who strikes deals with the black market and literally anyone else who will fund the Jaeger program. We get to have industrial apocalypse, alien thriller, and cyberpunk in one film. (Side question: are the Americas' coastlines devastated?)
6. Mako's expressions are so. Agh. Her face shows what she's feeling with unshielded honesty (she feels so much, like Raleigh) but she carries herself like Pentecost: deliberate, controlled. Very much his student (daughter).
7. Newt and Hermann are obsessed with their scientific theories being right, even if it means the possible doom of humankind. Iconic Academics. Also they must be important enough to have helicopters on call, since they run out of one to get to the bridge in time for the final fight.
8. Final goodbyes between Stacker Pentecost and Mako Mori.
9. Mako and Raleigh are two of many orphans who had no intention of surviving the war that took their families. Raleigh's last sacrifice was simultaneously the most selfless and selfish thing to do. Good for him to have survived, Mako would've found it hard to forgive him.
10. "Stop the clock."
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apostateoverrubies · 11 months
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It's funny how certain religious people act like accepting LGBTQ rights will lead to paedophilia being normalized when they've already let that shit slide for centuries.
Then again, what else do you expect from people who value religion over the rights of children?
Don't let them trick you into thinking they care.
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shaolinrouge · 9 months
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i’ve gone on about this before but the amount of DETAIL in pacrim is so fun. i love how there people in the background cheer or clap or “oooh” during raleigh and mako’s test, how you can hear Cherno Alpha calling for backup im the background during Pentecost’s scenes in the Double Event fight, how Aleksis and Sasha have their own little conversation in Russian when Raleigh first appears in the mess hall, the way all the extras in the Kaiju bunker with Newt actually look like they’ve been running in the rain (some of them are carrying bags and purses, some ponchos, all are suitably drenched), how you can hear Newton and Hermann arguing in the background before they even get on the elevator. gdt i love you
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I think that healing the system is less like just putting a jigsaw back together, and more like entirely creating a glass mosaic statue. It's because of how shattered we are. We were broken before we even had the chance to feel any sort of unity. We were turned against each other so quickly in foster care.
Nanny, our great-grandma, refined all the programming from the Pentecostals to be more like her beliefs (Seventh Day Church of God). It's because after we came back from foster care, she entirely took over our religious indoctrination. It was like this for probably just under six years, until I was about eleven. I think. The dates are incredibly fuzzy.
I think our best goal for healing is some kind of thriving, fluid multiplicity. We may always contain multitudes. That's ok. If we can find a way to consistently shift what we are to suit what we need to do along our personal standards of ethics, then I think we should. It's ok to have a fluid identity, like water. Don't silver roses reflect their surroundings, but remain themselves all the same?
-Annie ❓😺
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in-sightpublishing · 9 months
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How religion is devolving
Publisher: In-Sight Publishing Publisher Founding: March 1, 2014 Web Domain: http://www.in-sightpublishing.com  Location: Fort Langley, Township of Langley, British Columbia, Canada Journal: In-Sight: Independent Interview-Based Journal Journal Founding: August 2, 2012 Frequency: Three (3) Times Per Year Review Status: Non-Peer-Reviewed Access: Electronic/Digital & Open Access Fees: None…
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hadenclairee · 11 months
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Listen, i dont mean to sound like a reddit atheist, but... You ever think about how evangelical Chriatians very literally believe that there will be a genocide in which billions of humans, mostly just innocent everyday people, are condemned to suffer in hell?
And, like, that's the end. That's the finale. Of everything they believe. That's their solution for the world. A final one, if you will.
And they don't rebel. They don't say "hey, wait, that's a bit much" and appeal to their God to maybe reconsider. They don't even seem to really mind.
Instead, they worship. They conjure up an image of a genocidal maniac, and they worship it. The word "praise" is bandied about a lot. Praise. For a leader whose endgoal, very transparently, is genocide.
Suddenly a lot of history makes a little more sense.
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nycreligion · 1 year
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Killed, Pentecostals in Ukraine with church roots in NYC
Yaroslav Pavenko. Photo: Ukrainian Pentecostal Church Yaroslav “Slava” Pavenko, a twenty-two-year-old chaplain, was helping to lead a worship service, when he had to duck, along with everybody else, under cars and shelters as rockets from the invaders came. The air shuddered and hummed. He wore a bulletproof vest and helmet, but a fragment from a projectile slipped underneath. The chaplain was…
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sersi · 1 year
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PACIFIC RIM (2013) dir. Guillermo del Toro
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