Rules Broken

After thoroughly indulging my taste buds, I can safely say that Lincoln Park tastes like Pabst. If that's what the Taste of Lincoln Park was going for, I'm on board. The sound, on the other hand, didn't quite cut it. Brendan Kelly was scheduled to play which, at the very least, attracted me, Danny and Dave. His set was a little off though. A few more Dave Mathews covers than I had hoped for, and even his own rendition of Brown Eyed Girl. Unfortunately, time restrictions must have kept him from playing anything he wrote for the Lawrence Arms, and may even be responsible for him sounding much different than on his recordings. With his altered sound, lasered-off tattoos, and higher pitched vocals, I think he has finally cut all ties to the Lawrence Arms and punk rock. I guess this was well calculated as everyone wearing a backwards Cubs seemed to love him.
Anyways, this paper I'm supposed to be writing is turning me into quite the alcoholic (relatively speaking). Though it's still been lightly, I've been drinking a good four or five times a week over these past three, as opposed to my former intake which, for a while, hovered around one fairly drunk evening in a week. This is a step in a... different direction, I suppose, from what had been the case this time last year... (classic segue?)
I had quit Starbucks at the end of July. My last night working caused me to miss William Elliott Whitmore at Wicker Park Fest and I was sufficiently angry at Starbucks on just about every level (which is a good way to leave a job. I only went for the last shift because I was working with a girl who was cool and not worthy of pissing off). Dave and I were basking in the last warm days of drinking on my front steps, Lucy and I had broken up, and I was soon to embark on a cross country trip with Terra (whom I rarely hang out with) riding only on Greyhound buses. The full-fledged drinking really began once Lucy and I got back together and broke up again. Hm... I think I should wait for another month and a half until this topic reaches the accurate "year after" point and becomes somewhat relevant to write about.
I think I mentioned something about some other topic... Oh, that whole "testing the faith" thing. I do a lot of that. Sometimes it can be vague, like with cigarettes: am I testing my faith in how much I love smoking by quitting so often? Or maybe I'm testing my faith when I do smoke, just to see how much I enjoy being healthy. I could, on the third hand, be addicted. My mom used to tell me I was testing my faith by rejecting my Catholic upbringing. I don't think this is the case as there was never any faith to begin with. What I did do, though, was test my lack of faith by hanging out with a kid whose father turned the first floor of his house into a church. We stopped hanging out after a weekend retreat to do some good, old-fashioned bible studying. What really creeped me out was the family prayer that was said in Burger King parking lot after getting drive-thru. Even in 8th grade I was aware that no amount of prayer would save someone from that kind of diarrhea.
By the way, I think "testing the faith" is a phrase that isn't very good at all. It seems to give unnecessary amounts of gravity and meaning to things like, I don't know, drinking. "Faith" isn't something I have in drinking. That word is much too profound/ridiculous. Unfortunately, I do not care enough to come up with anything better.
Back on topic, though: the phrase "testing your faith" can be very detrimental. It can also be a life-saver (literally). Before I move forward, I would like to equate "testing your faith" with "just experimenting." There. Done. Where were we? Oh, okay. So the when I used to be fascinated with trying new and exciting ways of getting high (though not overly creative ways like making a meth-lab or abusing bottles of whipped cream), the general consensus amongst the people I hung out with was that this was not a phase, but a lifestyle. That was good and all. Like anything else, you have to go all in. I got it. You were looked down on if you were "just experimenting," even though the people who weren't and would end up having a serious problem wish they were just fooling around. Like in Inception, a deeply planted idea that is believed and, thus, adhered to, can be very powerful. I don't know what everyone else thought, but deep down I knew I was "just experimenting." If I didn't know that I would've let myself devolve into a coke-head or a caffeine-junkie.
That last example was of "just experimenting." Easy enough. Here's something that seems similar but is actually entirely different: I don't watch much television. I try not to. I consider watching lots of television as a way of shutting actual thinking from one's mind. I didn't use to mind it in excess because, for me, it happened so infrequently. I didn't have cable when I was growing up and the television I had was small and crappy. Making a day of smoking pot and watching Mrs. Doubtfire is good and fun when I'm in my friends' dorm room is good and fun. Making that a daily routine or commonplace is another story. See, I like to refrain from judging the way other people live, but I feel like I have to when important decisions are made by the general public and this particular general public has its collective head up its collective ass. So here I am, sounding like an old man or my mom or something. I don't know, maybe it's my poor vision that my eyes reject staring at glowing rectangles for more than a certain amount of time. Anyways, my point being that because I know better (which is debatable, I suppose), if I were to alter my schedule to allow for long periods of time watching Lost or TMZ or both... well, I just had a change of thought. Here's the deal: if I begin watching lots and lots of crappy television, I will be "testing my faith." I feel very strongly for not watching television, to the point that I feel bad for people who do-- so if I were to suddenly begin watching television on a very regular basis, I would be "testing my faith." The idea is that, because this is just a test of faith, I will end up abiding by the rules I believe in and not by an easier lifestyle which I happen to abhor.
Many people do this during the Christian Lenten Season, but I don't know why. People who participate in this ritual tend to act as if they're saying, "Here's a problem I have. I'll take 40 days off. It will be enough that I recognized the problem-- it isn't necessary to fix it." The majority of those not in the first category seem to be doing it to fuck with themselves, like "I guess I eat to much chocolate, but I really like it regardless so I think I'll give it up." The handful of those left over may have genuine intentions of fixing their ways.
Here's the deal: from the extensive research that I will say I've done, it is apparent to me that the idea of "testing your faith" implies returning to your former state. If that's the case, then what's the point? To gain experience? To see a new perspective? Those are good and fine reasons to do something but I think the bone I meant to pick is that people seem to refuse from past mistakes. That is very frustrating.
Speaking of very frustrating: I write these entries while I'm at work. Having to get up and do something every ten minutes leads to the tracks for these trains of thought often being scattered. My writing doesn't seem to be very cohesive these days.