I was raised in a very Christian home... in a weird way. My mom never talked too much about it unless asked while my dad would always want me to pray with him and always talked about how Jesus was the answer to everything, etc, etc. When it came to going to church, we all went as a family religiously (pun intended) until I was about 13-14. My parents said there just wasn't a good church around when we moved to Texas. We moved back to Colorado, but my family didn't start going to church like I assumed they would. I did. At that time, I had so many questions that I knew didn't have answers in Christianity, but I thought I'd drown them out with the soothing voice of a fat, old pastor who took my offerings to God and bought himself three vehicles in one year. If it's not apparent by the last sentence, I grew bitter. The church became more and more obvious in its holy ignorance to my eyes. I then started (quite frantically) searching for a different moral base. Ideas were forming in the back of my head (the front of it was reluctant because they seemed to be... selfish) as to what my life should be and, more importantly, whose it should be. I picked up one thing after another from Buddhism to Existentialism and whatever else until I found The Fountainhead
