c. billadeau

Posting more or less because I need to a) update this blog more and b) keep track of my progress more often. Not that this is much to go blogging home about!

Rough sketch for a character sheet for my senior thesis, or as close to one as I’m going to get. I’m kinda running out of time for all this preliminary junk; as important as it is, I am more and more tempted to cut corners. Drawing the angel is no big deal for me because I’ve had that character for years now… but I’m still trying to get comfortable with the priest, because making him look a ripe fifty years old while being as short and stocky as he is is HARD (and his haaaaiiir oh god I am going to kick myself later for making it so stupidly impossible to draw consistently)

It’s interesting; as I have been working through the script and all the research that I’ve had to bring up on Soviet-era politics and the Russian Orthodox church, I find myself becoming unexpectedly reacquainted with my own history and disillusionment with religion. I was raised in a Midwest Lutheran family. Went through all the hoops; ended up declaring my atheism/apathy just weeks after I was confirmed, much to the disappointment of my parents. Haven’t looked back since.

There’s a lot of reasons I finally said, “fuck it” and gave up on this religion. I couldn’t stand the selective justice and the arrogant hate (I specifically cite a sermon at the church I was going to be confirmed at that preached homosexuality as “an unfortunate mistake” and, being bisexual myself, knew that was the last straw).

But one of the worst parts was the isolation amongst others. The Christian church, especially the Midwest Protestant sect, is all about community. Everything you did was in a group; all the youth programs and Bible camps I went to, there was no such thing as “alone time”. Yet… despite the constant interaction, I never made any friends or any real connection with my church community. I had a hard enough time making friends in school or in my neighborhood, so I always hoped that in a place that encorages–no, requires relationships with others to function that making friends would be at least achievable, if not easy.

Not the case, unfortunately. In a place that carefully erases individuality as soon as you step into the narthex, I had always felt singled out. So distant. So alone.
(I’m such a fucking emo kid, I know.)

Philosophies and religions of the world have interested me in the way curiosities such as carnival sideshows do; it’s morally abhorrent to me but… I can’t help but be fascinated by the spectacle of it all. I want to say that I am sometimes envious, perhaps? of people of faith be, but then I realize that I have faith, too, just in less specific manifestations… I have faith in tomorrow, I have faith in the future, I have faith in justice. Even though all these things continue to disappoint me on a regular basis, I somehow still go on, blindly believing that everything will be okay.

I’m beginning to like this priest character that I thought up on a whim more and more because of it, I think. Sure, all my characters have a bit of me in them (the angel, specifically, has my apathy and my fear of commitment), but I don’t think I’ve really used an opportunity to work though a part of my history like I’m doing with this priest. (hopefully this doesn’t qualify him as a total self-insert? ohhh crap)

My plan was originally to have the priest go through a loss of faith through the book I’m scripting up right now, but now I’m not so sure. He is a weak, corrupted man to begin with; to keep his church afloat in an atheist state determined to destroy it, he bribes and lies and murders… or at least turns a blind eye to the bloodshed, which is just as bad, I think. He runs into an angel (fallen, specifically) that turns everything about his religion on its head. He feels the whole world is pretty much against him already. I’m beginning to wonder if what he needs is not more disillusionment but rather a renewal of faith–perhaps not in his god, but in humanity itself.

Anyway. All this research brings up memories, although I’m mostly looking into what’s different from what I know. Even though it’s been years since I’ve stepped into a church, all the rituals and sermons and familiar phrases are ingrained into my mind. I realize now that I’ve been trying to forget the culture I grew up in when it’s responsible for everything that I am today. Anyway, I don’t think I could forget all of this stuff even if I tried.

I mean, I’m not about to go back and start singing psalms, but… I’m finding some sort of weird appreciation for something that I am so strongly against.

Also, by sitting here and typing out all of this, I think I’ve found a solution to a problem I have been trying to solve with my script (and what caused me to wander over to the internets here in the first place). Fuuuuck, I love 3 AM. Add that to my list of things I have faith in; the magic hour never fails to come through for me.