...On Finding God at the Bowling Alley

I've been pretending to be a grown up now for a little over 5 years. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but frankly, I think I'm going a pretty darn good job. I mean, people I meet usually dont find out for at least a few weeks that I'm really a confused, severly ADHD child who still hopes to become an Olympic gymnast when she grows up. In order to appear grown up, there's a couple of things I have to do. One of them is selling insurance. I have to sell alot of insurance to people in alot of different places, and in order to get those people to let me sell them insurance, I have to feed them and socialize with them and get them to think that I am a functioning adult. It's a vicious cycle really.

Anyway, one ofthe best ways to socialize with people who might let you sell them insurance is by attending an insurance industry event. Yes indeed, an all you-can-eat schmorgasbord of networking and fake-adulting. You can kill about 37 birds with one stone and still make it home in time for a lean cuisine and a good 20 minutes of self loathing before passing out. It's a brokers dream (and an expense account's nightmare).

A few days ago, I found myself in Boston for one such event. This one was a charity function, which usually requires you to sponsor something, wear a goofy team shirt, and perform some sort of activity. Needless to say, at 6:45pm Monday night I arrived at the bowling alley wearing a homemade (not by me) tie-dyed shirt, ready to toss a 9lb ball down someone's over-polished hardwood floor in an effort to knock shit over (really, are we cavemen?). First thing I noticed was a table full of trophies for the first and second place team. At once, the competitive child in me (the same one who you will someday see smirking at you from the top podium at the Olympic medal ceremony, accepting her all-around gold), decided that I must leave that nacho-cheese scented building with a 1st place trophy in my fist (I would indeed accomplish this, but more on that later).

30 minutes and 3 bud-lights later I realized a few things: one - I am a crappy bowler. I start off okay, but it all goes downhill after my BAC hits .03. Two - I hate bowling. I don't mind the bowling alley itself. Give me free beer and the ability to make a bunch of new business connections and I'm happy as a clam. The act of bowling, however, pisses me right off. I hate sticking my fingers in those filthy holes (wow, that last sentence sounds wildly inappropriate on it's own) and I loathe that awkward moment where you have to turn around and face your teammates after hurling the ball down the gutter. Most of all, I despise the weird memories of high school that pop into my head the whole time.

I realize that last connection might seem to have come from left field. Well, remember my earlier comment about my attention-span...or lack thereof. In all seriousness though, I always think of high school whenever I find myself at a bowling alley, minature golf course, or a movie theater. Even worse, I think of high school church youth groups I was guilted into becoming a part of from time-to-time, and having to do these very uninteresting things with them. Call it weird, but stick a bowling ball in my hand and I immediately think of Blah-blah-blah Christian Center's 3rd Annual Say No To Drugs and Fun Bowling Extravaganza. I may be a little foggy on the actual event name, but I know I've been to a few of them. You remember them too. They were the events set up by the over-eager youth pastor (white, male, too young to be married with kids but was, too young to be teaching spiritual wisdom to confused young adults but was) in an effort to keep high school kids from drinking, having sex, or doing anything else that our bodies are designed to do at that age. If you went to any of these, I bet you found yourself no closer to the divine, but rather alot closer to the place you go when your self esteem is at it's lowest because you realize that church youth groups are the same evil cliques that plague every other social aspect of your life at that age. That judgemental, overweight girl with the homemade bookbag who always cried during those "worship" songs and relentlessly kissed the ass of the youth pastor (that she was in probably in love with) is exactly the same as the abercrombie-clad bitch that sat behind you in homeroom: she's the queen bee. High on Jesus and drunk on power. I can fake being an adult better than those kids can fake spiritual selflessness anyday.

You know, it wasn't until I got close to graduating college that I was able to make my peace with the religious zealots that plagued my life throughout my childhood and adolescence. I have horrible memories of weird white people telling me that they were going to pray for me, or friends who knew nothing about the mysteries of the universe or our purpose for being here telling me that Jesus was disappointed because I did who-knows-what. Never once in my life have I ever felt any light, or joy, or inspiration as a result of my coming in contact with those who sell fear and repression. There is no spirituality in coercion. There is no light in being so by-the-book that you'll vote for truly unqualified, horrible people simply because they say they're Christian and don't want gay people to get married. I don't know, but something tells me spirituality, not to mention the running of the country, is a little more complicated than that.

I'm cool with Jesus though. In fact I think he was one of the few that actually got it. I will say that I'm surprised that white people made him white, but kept his hair long. I would expect that in changing his race for the sake of their own personal comfort, they'd have given him a shave and a haircut. Nothing freaks people out like hippies.

I'm cool with God too. I've been working on my relationship with him for awhile now, actually. I think he's okay that I'm still trying to work out for myself as to who or what he is. Sometimes I sense it in the universe, and sometimes I sense it within. I often get the feeling that changing the world I live in often involves changing myself for the better. Like there's light in selflessness or correcting the soul, or something. Bear with me, I'm working out the kinks. I do not, however, believe that God is dogmatic. I give him alot more credit than that.

Finally, I don't even have a problem with Christianity either. I've met alot of Christians and Catholics who seem to have an understanding that it's about them and God only. Spirituality is personal. It's a mountain, and there are 500 ways to climb it. It's not your job to lecture the people on the terrace below you and then huff and puff when they don't listen. Turn around and get your ass up that mountain. People will watch you, and follow your example.

I think our team finished dead last in the bowling tournament. Further, I don't even think I knocked a single pin over during my last four turns. Instead, I focused on chatting with new friends, and figuring out what I was going to take from the whole experience. You know, I'm glad that my bowling that night reminded me of high school awkwardness. I actually thought about it for a few minutes and realized: I'm alot more grown-up than I give myself credit for. Hell, tossing a marble ball seems not to big a deal if there's a little life pondering to be gained. Unless of course, I am just an ADHD child.

Oh, and about the trophy. I stole the 1st place statue from the table at the end of the night. It was one of 3 extras, and the lady said I could. Business is just about appearances anyway, right?