I like observing people sometimes to a fault, and then examine my thoughts about my own observations. Therefore in that same spirit, I was in church one day and I noticed a couple sitting at the end of an aisle, I knew it was a couple because the guy's arm was resting upon his partner 's chair and I thought: "wow, we have a become a very progressive, revolutionized church!! A gay couple in our church!?" I was marveling about the idea until the other "guy" got up and stepped out (maybe to go to the bathroom?) and I noticed a pair of boobs and somehow, a little disappointment ran me through: "Too good to be true. May have to wait for some more time, to see a gay couple in my church".
Today, as I was sitting I watched a contingent of five walked by: a very young girl 16-19ish holding in her arms a baby girl (the baby was swaddled in a pinkish blanket), a middle age woman that I assumed to be the young girl's mom and following behind was an equally young man (early 20s) holding a probably 2-2(1/) years old very blond boy. The middle age woman and young girl sat next to each other, the young man sat next to the young girl and that's when I dreadfully noticed a wedding band on the young girl's finger. And the whole ordeal made me think of Bristol (Palin's pregnant teenage daughter and the fact that Bristol and her baby's father were to marry in a near future). For a minute, I admired the courage of this young girl and man, mother and father of two to forgo her/his "future" to take care of their kids. Yes I think it requires courage to bring up a child especially if it wasn't planned, as Lord knows how many would rather take la clé des champs (as the French say) or go to greener pastures.
There was also a baby dedication and as the pastor was reading the babies's name that needed to be dedicated, I noticed parents like giving all those biblical names to their child in the hope their kids will grow up to be just like the personage they carry the name: Malachie, Melkisedec, Jedediah, Schekinah...etc. This often makes me wonder if a name truly has any influence on one's self. I so believe in our free will that gives each one of us the ability to make good or bad choices that I really have a hard time grasping the methodology behind baby's name choice. Moreover, as that dear pastor of mine often says: "A child will grow doing what we tell them until they reach the age when they'll do exactly what we do".
Earlier today, I scanned the NYTimes front page and drilldoown on a link about this English teacher, brilliant writer who hanged himself two days ago (the body was found in his home), his name: David Foster Wallace. The news ignited a flow of questions: why did he commit suicide? Was he not fulfilled? He wrote the "The Infinite Jest" (I swear to God, I remember seeing that book lying around in the house somewhere, got to read that), a book who apparently revolutionize Post-modern litterature. What was such a burden on him that he thought taking his life away would appease him? Was he not happy? What was so monstrous that he couldn't bear the thought of seeing his reflection in a mirror? Why Mr. Wallace, why? 46 only? Why?