My very twisted take; Friday April 15th 2011

I am agnostic. For those of you who do not know, this means I am not sure whether or not God/god exists. For the sake of manners, I’ll be putting a capital at the beginning.

I was on the bus today and a thought popped into my head that when you create something a tiny bit of who you are is reflected in that thing….because it is your creation. It doesn’t have to be a physical thing. I’m talking about, it’s the fabrication or creation that has come from an idea or act that is made and controlled by you, so it belongs to you. It doesn’t matter if someone else has had the same thoughts as you, because you each have your own spin on the matters surrounding the thought- depending on your life, individually, and your mental state;  your physical state; your experiences and views. And a whole tangled heap-mess-mush of other things, too.

My point is, if God does exists then technically we are his/her creation. Therefore we are reflections in part or his/her thought pattern. So God, in a way, could be that creepy man who sat next to you on the bus. Or the little girl who cut her sister’s hair off because she was jealous. Or the son, that lonely boy, sat outside school at the end of the day, waiting for his father to pick him up. And also God could be, in some ways, part of  the father of that boy, who is late because he is with his mistress. And the mistress who only sleeps with him to get a raise, not because she likes him. The wife of the cheating husband, and she knows he’s cheating… But she doesn’t do anything about it because she loves him too much and she doesn’t want her marriage to break down. This could be because she is terrified of divorce because it tore a friend apart… It could be because her mother won’t forgive her. There are reasons for a lot of things.

I’ve just finished reading Fight Club by Check Palahniuk. It was quite excellent, though between finishing it and going to sleep I had to read a little of a lighter book to take my mind off the plot. It was very strong, the plot of that book. It drew you in, wound you into its spools, and at the end of the book you’re not just wool anymore, you’re a jumper. You can be a little rugged around the edges or you can be made of cashmere, the point is it changes you. The characters in it make you feel different. I had to start reading another book, or I’d have dreamt about it.