Monday, April 9, 2007

Easter with an atheist

With Easter comes a renewal of religious consciousness and introspective auditing.

I met my Amanda from MDA camp. MDA is a genetic disease that affects motor skills and strikes at kids. We were both camp counselors for a week at just off Worley, Idaho. This is the place I once allowed my camper to eat as many breakfast sausages as he wanted to the point that he puked in the cafeteria. Hey, it was summer camp. Amanda was the counselor for my campers sister.

So Amanda is what I would call a devote atheist. Her rationale for defending the nonexistence of God is strikingly similar to the argument one uses to validate their faith. Both equally futile. She was in town to visit her friend on a photoshoot and hang out with me over the weekend.

I returned this Sunday from Glyde memorial service. I received great advice from Amanda for my next phase of my modeling career. Essentially this week I will seek consultation from a Talent Agency and if they aren't interested then I will put the project on the back burner.

Amanda is a successful photographer and currently is a Assistant photo editor for Architectural Digest. After reconnecting through Myspace a year ago, I have learned to trust her knowledge of the business. And if the talent agency is interested then I have a way to complete my portfolio through my normal channels.

After church I had a overflowing feeling of the holy spirit. Around Amanda I instantly regained my moderate personality. My spiritual undercurrent kept from reaching the surface.



A sample picture of MDA Camp



Crack family



I saw a family of meth-heads riding the train on my way to church. Their three children were going with their parents to hunt easter eggs. I happened to see them on the train, eggs and baskets in tote, in total pastel joy.

This is the second time I've seen this family out in public, the first instance was walking home on Christmas day. It was then that I could easily identify the effects of drug use as well as the innocent oblivion in the cheery eyes of the little girls.

It strikes me as odd that the bitter sweet experience of watching this dysfunctional family experience joy comes to me during the Lord's holidays.

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