I Didn't Update the Blog because I was Trapped in the Closet

Return of the Slack

It is with shame—tail tucked between my legs—that I return to you, Gentle Reader, and ask forgiveness for my pathetic promises of “updating” and “staying current.” We all know that my procrastinator ways stick like glue. The flesh is weak, people!

The Little Stomach That Could

Last I wrote, the fate of my stomach hung in the balance: would I forever be deprived the fruits of Bacchus? Would the cost of Prilosec slowly push me to the po' house? Presently my stomach is “cured.” No more Prilosec, no more pain. Well, on that last note, when I drink alcohol my stomach does get a little pained. I fear that my college days as a shooter of Skol vodka are gone forever. My stomach cannot rival that of the Bush twins; it is just not cut out for binge drinking anymore. C'est La Vie. Don’t get me wrong, I partake in a beer here, a beer there, but now when I get drunk I feel gross. I’ll ask my doctor this Friday when I go for my pap, why it is that my liver isn’t so keen on allowing me to kill it with booze. Come on liver, live a little!

Speaking of stirrups and tongs, ladies reading the blog, please go get your yearly Pap. It’s very important to take care of your lady parts. Preventative care and all that. Don’t get me started on healthcare in this country.

L.A. the “Shithole”

As Andy and Natalie weren’t too taken with the Walk of Fame, and all the celebrity crap, I suggested we see the more soothing sites of the city and hike in Griffith Park. However, Andy was much more excited to visit the Scientology Complex a few blocks from out apartment on Sunset Blvd.

When Jenna was in town we had driven by the Scientology "Complex" after hours in the same way that teenagers drive by graveyards seeking cheap thrills. Truthfully, I was a little scared to enter the building. During my blog-reading at work, I'd read up on the creepy-cult and was un poco scared that they'd have some way of sucking me in. However, Andy was adamant about going, and I comforted myself in acknowledging that I can be, and often am, the most stubborn woman in the world. I would be fine. And so we went.

Briefly, my thoughts on Scientology

No blog on adjusting to life in L.A. would be complete without the obligatory Scientology post.

The weekend of my doctors appointment, the week after my trip to San Francisco, Robert and I were paid a visit by Andy Donovan and his girlfriend Natalie. Andy is a NU friend, and Robert’s former roommate. Andy and Natalie had just returned from 9 months abroad: teaching English in China and working on an organic farm in New Zealand. Based on their former locations Los Angeles was of course the best place to gradually re-absorb American culture (HA!). I think Andy's sentiments were similar, because he'd only been in LA for 8 hours, and his summary of the city was: "a total shithole." Now granted, LA can be a shithole, and some (well perhaps many) people find it to be. However, you have to earn the right to call LA a shithole. The first 8 hours of your first visit, during which time you've seen only the airport and the Walk of Fame do not count. Only after the city has either mercilessly destroyed your personal dreams of stardom or made you more prone to lung cancer from its smog levels are you allowed to dub it a "shithole."

Over Christmas break, while enjoying my mother’s cable, I watched the infamous “Trapped in the Closet” episode of South Park. At one point in the episode they tell a ridiculous story of an intergalactic war, alien souls, and Xenu. At the bottom of the screen flashes the caption: “This is actually what Scientologists believe.” Needless to say, the ridiculousness of this peaked my interest. I started reading about the “church” and all it’s shady dealings: how they have driven people to bankruptcy, are extremely defensive of their “church” and paranoid of outsiders which includes: the industry of mental health (psychiatry, psychology, counseling), the government, and anyone who views Scientology as a global money scam instead of a “religion.” Links here. How creepy! After reading up on L. Ron Hubbard, it seems commonly know that he was most likely a paranoid schizophrenic, and instead of getting help he needed, he created an institution that helps other nuts avoid the psychological help they need. He even made a comment about how “making your own religion” was a solid business plan. Evidence also points to L. Ron being a closeted man. Hubbard’s “church” is adamantly homophobic, which also explains some of the media and blog fascination with John Travolta and Tom Cruise. Why don’t you just watch the South Park episode? You’ll have to download it, because the “church” of Scientology has had the episode pulled from the air, and it won’t be shown again. Watch episode here! The hullabaloo caused Chef (Isaac Hayes, a Ghanaian and a Scientologist!) to leave the show (most likely from pressure from the “church” as he is a member). Tom Cruise was also rumored to be part of the ban on the episode.

At the same time, (and to be fair), I was talking to my friend John Ross and he was saying he didn’t care about Scientologists or what they believe: that they can believe whatever they want so long as it isn’t hurting anyone else or infringing on their rights. And I agreed with John on some points: isn’t it far worse for other religious groups to be legislating their personal beliefs on homosexuality, abortion, and a slew of other issues than it is for some Scientologists to believe that alien souls are making them feel sad? At least the Scientologists aren’t trying to legislate the ban of psychology, right? Oh but then there is the “Citizens Commission on Human Rights” building that has a permanent exhibit on Psychiatry called “An Industry of Death” with horrific images hanging in the windows. The “church” of Scientology runs that building, also located on Sunset in Hollywood. They are notorious for the crazy propaganda they disseminate. I think my problem with Scientology is that it masquerades as a church. Be what you are: a greedy, paranoid global business that bilks money out of wealthy, emotionally needy fools.

However, at the end of the day, I have far more things to worry about than Scientology. So to the Scientologists book-marking my blog as an “enemy of the church” please go about your business. You have bigger fish to fry don’t you?

But Back to Our Visit…

We were greeted inside by a young, attractive boy in a crisp white shirt and tie. I thought he was cute, but then I remembered he was crazy and the sentiment passed. He welcomed us to the Center and asked if we were familiar with the teachings of L. Ron Hubbard. We said "kinda" and he had us fill out personal information cards so that we might "learn more." We huddled in a corner stifling our laughter and creating fake names. We were all from Chicago, I was Hortencia (I love that name), Andy was Louis, Robert was Adam, and Natalie was...damn I forget, maybe Mary. I'm surprised I remembered our fake names--we were sure to memorize them at the time. For my fake address I listed that of my old bitch of a landlady during my brief stay in Pilsen last year. Perhaps Scientology will help her reach her full potential. We were allowed to write one question on each of our cards, Natalie asked if there was something living inside her brain that was making her sad. I asked if Tom Cruise was gay. Later the young man would scoff at my question with the proof that Tom Cruise was married to a woman and therefore couldn’t possibly be gay. HA! Robert was terrified that our questions would get us discovered, but at this point, I'd been laughing the whole time, and really didn't give a fuck. Cute Boy herded us into the "theater" so that we could watch a movie that would teach us about Scientology.

I should note here that the Scientology Complex used to be part of a children’s hospital. The “church” bought the building, keeping in tact the ground floor paint job that used far too many primary colors. The result is a place that is creepy to begin with, made lots creepier by a ladies bathroom coated in happy, bright blue, red, and yellow paint.

This movie was AMAZING. They sell it in the giftshop (yes there's a giftshop, but that's not what they call it). I may buy a copy of this movie. It would be great to screen at parties. It was probably about 30-45 minutes and after watching it, I really knew nothing more about Scientology than I did when I entered. It was a general overview of a handful of the numerous divisions and departments of the Scientology hierarchy. This raised the question, how can you believe in something/join something when you do not fully understand what you believe/or are joining? Scientology keeps saying that as humans we "want answers" and that other institutions (like psychology, science, religion) have failed to give us "answers" and that Scientology will provide us with "answers." Well they didn't answer any of my questions. They just suggested I buy a few dozen books in the giftshop/bookstore to "get started." It's one giant mind-fuck which is the brilliance of the video. You can totally see the subliminal messages and the way in which they're trying to persuade you, draw you in, play on your emotions. Really creepy, but done so poorly. The video, where shall I begin... First of all the man hosting the movie is just walking around one of the Scientology complexes, and he is talking directly into the camera to us, the audience, or the people who want to "learn more" about Scientology. He takes you throughout the complex introducing random people in the "Church" who teach communication classes, give personality tests, perform marriages, etc. This host, is pretty serious in his delivery, but underneath it, you can sense and see a boiling rage. Scientologists are always on the defensive, they feel people are out to get them and their religion. This was really clear by the body language and delivery of the host. He seems very angry underneath his bubbly delivery, at the end of the movie you really see it come to the surface. He slowly takes a step closer to the camera after each phrase. He says that you can "walk out of here today and listen to nothing I've said, that is your choice, you can also go jump off a bring or blow your brains out...in the end it is you who can either join us or walk out that door... it is your choice..." VERBATIM. Word-for-word the part about the bridge and the brains, that’s exactly what he said. We were laughing so hard! After the video they took us to the bookstore/lobby and asked us if we had any questions. We thought of a great one. Why does the Scientology symbol look like a cross? One of the Scientologists explained that their symbol is not a cross but a 6 point figure (basically a cross with an X behind it) and that the 6 points symbolize something. However, if you are forming a “church” that has nothing to do with Christianity or any other organized religion, and is wholly original and true, why the fuck would your symbol be anything even close to resembling a cross? They didn’t provide us with further explanation, but you see what I’m getting at. It was obviously done so stupid people will associate Scientology with Christianity (at least subconsciously if not blatantly) and then want to “learn more” about the church.

After the video it was pretty clear that no one in the Scientology Center thought we were genuinely interested in “learning more.” I’m sure they’d heard us laugh through the video. As such, they really didn’t pressure us at all after the video. I think they had the “those poor lost fools” approach to handling us. However, some random hot chick Scientologist did come up to Andy and Robert after the video to ask them if they “enjoyed it.” It was clear that the boys’ interest was peaked, but clearly she was a mole—for she suggested they buy a few books. That was the end, and we left, our minds truly blown.

The following day we went to Venice, joined by Robert’s new girlfriend Sarah(see green shirt picture). I really approve of Sarah; it was she that got Robert to clean his toilet (the black hole of death) and from that moment I knew she was a keeper. In fact, I think her loving care of RFC3 will have saved our roommate marriage for another year. All is well in Apartment 8. At Venice Beach we walked the boardwalk, went to the beach, and ate at a delicious seafood place off Pacific Coast Highway called “The Reel Inn.” It was great to see Andy and Natalie. Even though they’d been abroad for quite some time, they too were thrown back into the post-college reality of liberal arts majors: what the hell am I doing/where can I get health insurance/I have no money. We’re all in the same boat, well except for those among us that are actually doing well. Bastards.