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16 down & 9 to go....

ok, so here I am at work, somewhere in my 16th hour of fasting, and I have to say, things are still pretty good. I am thirsty, but it really does seem to come and go. Last night around 10 I did consider going outside and opening my mouth to the rain - but I managed to control that impulse with about 4 episodes worth of the West Wing season 6 marathon on Bravo. I haven't been hungry yet, which is probably pretty normal - I mean, my body is fairly used to fasting for about 18 hours seeing as how I usually skip breakfast. Not to worry though, I ought to be starving in about 2 hours.

I haven't done as much reflecting as I'd hoped, but for some reason I feel like that shouldn't really come until the hunger pangs kick in. Why is that? Why do we equate religion so effortlessly with self-sacrifice and pain? In general I've always focused on the "god so loved the world" bit of my religion's mantra... but no matter how much good I've done or how closely inside the lines I've colored there's always that pervasive layer of guilt, that little voice inside telling you that if it's not a struggle, you're not trying hard enough. And that translates into our constant need, or rather my constant need, for contrition and absolution. Hmmn. Maybe I'll reflect on this for a bit while I'm on hold with the bastard child of Satan and Ma Bell known as Verizon.

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