So maybe this isn't so weird, but I just found out the other day that my two desk mates don't believe in evolution.
Now, one of them is Catholic (I bugged her with so many questions when I was thinking about converting - she claims she gets 'convert points' for helping bring me in!) and the other is not, but she is a Christian.
And I just...assumed that everyone who wasn't some sort of 'weird' fundamentalist believed in evolution, but I was wrong and I am shocked.
Of course, the Church permits belief in evolution and belief in not-evolution, so it's fine, but I just...
It was a surprise.
And I've realized that I have assumed that evolution is true because I was told that evolution was true and that there was science that proved it but I don't know what that science is. Like, I'm not saying that I don't believe in evolution, just that I know that I don't even know enough about how it has been proven to make an attempt at arguing for it.
Showing posts with label Real Life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Real Life. Show all posts
Monday, October 1, 2018
Monday, September 24, 2018
Knitting Myself a Mid-Life Crisis
Does it count as a mid-life crisis if you're 36?
I mean, I don't know.
LOL
So, I got a tattoo today. It's my first tattoo, ever, and I like it a lot. It's a shark with some blue watercolor like background, on my shoulder. We'll see how it goes, but the actual tattoo didn't hurt at all, and the place that I got it done is nice and clean and has an excellent reputation. But I'm already thinking about getting another one. An octopus, wrapping around my arm. In case you were wondering.
I took the day off of work because the appointment for the tattoo was in the middle of the day, and I have vacation days, so why not? Anyway, I got my hair trimmed - that's one problem with having short hair, is that if you want to keep it up, you have to get it trimmed more often. Long hair is more forgiving of growth. But the woman who cut my hair suggested that I get 'plum violet' highlights - I was at a little walk in place, so they don't do it there, she wasn't trying to like, sell me on spending more money, but I'm thinking about it.
Like I said. Mid-life crisis.
Also, I'm starting on knitting a new baby blanket.
It's....for a surprise. :D
Not ME, so get that right out of your head, but a surprise none the less. So if we're FB friends, mums the word. Because mum doesn't know yet. The announcement is planned for Halloween, because my sister is absolutely related to me. :D
We don't know what sex Surprise will be, so I picked out some nice yellow yarn to make this one. After all, it's tradition at this point.
The knitting, not the color. But I learned from the last time. Baby weight yarn, but not the super thin kind. Wheee!!!
Monday, January 16, 2017
Rambling + Wrong Things Being Wrong
I have edited this post three or four times. I start on it, then get distracted and then I come back and have to update All the Things. So if something makes no sense? Go me.
So a while back I said I wanted to do a post about inherent evils. I may have used the word intrinsic, but I think that's the wrong term now.
A lot of things have happened since then, work is always interesting and my sister isactually getting married in less than a month married. Much luck to her husband, he knew what he was getting into. I'm the maid of honor...matron of honor? Not sure what the right term is, actually. I'm unmarried (clearly), but not properly a 'maid'. *shrug* Whatever. I'm busy killing myself walking around breaking in cowboy boots because apparently my sister is a red neck of the highest caliber.
Let me tell you how miffed I was that I had to buy not one, but TWO pairs of boots because my sister approved the first pair of boots and then blamed her husband and said that they had to be BLACK boots because of reasons. *rolls eyes* And then I break in a second pair of boots and SHE DOESN'T EVEN GET ANY PICTURES OF THE BOOTS I COULD HAVE BEEN WEARING NORMAL SHOES LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN AND NO ONE WOULD HAVE KNOWN.
I took those boots off so fast.
So. Fast.
I just keep telling myself its her wedding, and she's hardly a bridezilla. And I've told her she only gets the one. I also told her fiancee husband he can't give her back. But seriously, he seems like a good guy and he's a cop, which, the irony is thick here. My sister is studying to be a nurse and he's a cop - I look the most like my maternal grandmother out of the rest of the family and we may...have had certain personality traits in common? Seeing as how we are both always right. ;) But my sister is literally recreating my grandparents' marriage, since my grandmother was a nurse and my grandfather was a cop.
Aaaaanyyywayyyy....
There was also the election.
Which is a thing that happened. I don't really talk about politics, and I'm not planning on changing that now.
Moving on.
My boss, who is a great man, has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. It's not the treatable kind and I don't know if it's worse to know that you're going to die, here's a timeline or to know that you're not going to be yourself before the end.
*sigh*
Okay.
Inherent/intrinsic evil.
I listen to a podcast called Catholic Answers Focus. It's related to the Catholic Answers radio show, which I also listen to, surprise surprise. It's more of a one on one interview kind of a thing. Back in August (OMG that was so long ago) they had an episode titled Natural Law and Civil Law. Which was an interesting listen.
While I was listening, I had a minor epiphany?
So, incest. We can all generally agree that it is terrible and wrong and should not happen. But is it because it is typically an abusive situation or is it because there is something so wrong with the act/concept itself that even if it happens in a 'healthy' way it is still evil?
I was thinking through it in my head, sort of like this.
Incest is wrong because
1) it is an abusive relationship. If it is between an older family member and a younger there is an inherent power differential and the pedophilia aspect just makes it that much worse. If it is between relatives of a more similar age, there is still typically a power imbalance where one party is manipulating or controlling the other due to a variety of factors;
2) step back and say that it is a relationship that is not abusive in that way. There are two people, related, who meet and decide to begin a romantic/sexual relationship. They've never met one another before this, they didn't grow up together, etc. There's no possibility of it being a situation like in the first step. Is it sill wrong?
Yes. But why?
My first thought was because they could possibly have children and those children's probability of being born with significant birth defects is higher than those of people suitably distantly related. I know it doesn't happen in every instance, and that inbreeding can take a long time of repeated occurrences to cause the worst sorts on a regular basis, but it's still an unnecessary risk factor to add to an already risky proposition.
So, 3) take it back another step and say that they will not have children. Better yet, they cannot. For whatever reason.
Is it still wrong?
My brain says yes.
But why?
I suppose one could argue that even a scenario such as this serves to normalize the incestuous relationship, thus perhaps making it an nth more likely that someone will abuse another member of their family in the way detailed in the first step. But that seems a stretch to me, and honestly, if someone is that wrongly wired, they're going to do it no matter what justifications they have to make to themselves.
Still wrong?
Yes.
Why?
It just is. It's just wrong. At it's core, there is something wrong with the concept, let along the act itself that sets people's teeth on edge.
And yes, I am aware that incest has been practiced in other, ancient cultures. Doesn't make it less wrong. People have done a whole lot of things, collectively and individually and made themselves believe that it was okay. That never made these things actually okay.
Some things are wrong and no argument or justification can be made to change that.
So a while back I said I wanted to do a post about inherent evils. I may have used the word intrinsic, but I think that's the wrong term now.
A lot of things have happened since then, work is always interesting and my sister is
Let me tell you how miffed I was that I had to buy not one, but TWO pairs of boots because my sister approved the first pair of boots and then blamed her husband and said that they had to be BLACK boots because of reasons. *rolls eyes* And then I break in a second pair of boots and SHE DOESN'T EVEN GET ANY PICTURES OF THE BOOTS I COULD HAVE BEEN WEARING NORMAL SHOES LIKE A NORMAL HUMAN AND NO ONE WOULD HAVE KNOWN.
I took those boots off so fast.
So. Fast.
Aaaaanyyywayyyy....
There was also the election.
Which is a thing that happened. I don't really talk about politics, and I'm not planning on changing that now.
Moving on.
My boss, who is a great man, has been diagnosed with a brain tumor. It's not the treatable kind and I don't know if it's worse to know that you're going to die, here's a timeline or to know that you're not going to be yourself before the end.
*sigh*
Okay.
Inherent/intrinsic evil.
I listen to a podcast called Catholic Answers Focus. It's related to the Catholic Answers radio show, which I also listen to, surprise surprise. It's more of a one on one interview kind of a thing. Back in August (OMG that was so long ago) they had an episode titled Natural Law and Civil Law. Which was an interesting listen.
While I was listening, I had a minor epiphany?
So, incest. We can all generally agree that it is terrible and wrong and should not happen. But is it because it is typically an abusive situation or is it because there is something so wrong with the act/concept itself that even if it happens in a 'healthy' way it is still evil?
I was thinking through it in my head, sort of like this.
Incest is wrong because
1) it is an abusive relationship. If it is between an older family member and a younger there is an inherent power differential and the pedophilia aspect just makes it that much worse. If it is between relatives of a more similar age, there is still typically a power imbalance where one party is manipulating or controlling the other due to a variety of factors;
2) step back and say that it is a relationship that is not abusive in that way. There are two people, related, who meet and decide to begin a romantic/sexual relationship. They've never met one another before this, they didn't grow up together, etc. There's no possibility of it being a situation like in the first step. Is it sill wrong?
Yes. But why?
My first thought was because they could possibly have children and those children's probability of being born with significant birth defects is higher than those of people suitably distantly related. I know it doesn't happen in every instance, and that inbreeding can take a long time of repeated occurrences to cause the worst sorts on a regular basis, but it's still an unnecessary risk factor to add to an already risky proposition.
So, 3) take it back another step and say that they will not have children. Better yet, they cannot. For whatever reason.
Is it still wrong?
My brain says yes.
But why?
I suppose one could argue that even a scenario such as this serves to normalize the incestuous relationship, thus perhaps making it an nth more likely that someone will abuse another member of their family in the way detailed in the first step. But that seems a stretch to me, and honestly, if someone is that wrongly wired, they're going to do it no matter what justifications they have to make to themselves.
Still wrong?
Yes.
Why?
It just is. It's just wrong. At it's core, there is something wrong with the concept, let along the act itself that sets people's teeth on edge.
And yes, I am aware that incest has been practiced in other, ancient cultures. Doesn't make it less wrong. People have done a whole lot of things, collectively and individually and made themselves believe that it was okay. That never made these things actually okay.
Some things are wrong and no argument or justification can be made to change that.
Monday, August 15, 2016
Today has been a good day
A little over a month ago I had my yearly physical. This includes an ultrasound of my thyroid, since people with Hashimoto's (my specific diagnosis for the hypothyroidism) are at a higher risk for developing thyroid cancer or even just growths that eventually need to be removed.
The solution for this, obviously, is to have the thyroid entirely removed, but that's a surgery that's not really done lightly, given the position of the thyroid on your throat, etc. etc. It's not, from what I understand, a particularly risky or dangerous surgery, but I'm of the school that if you don't need to have a surgery you shouldn't have it. Any surgery carries risks. And there are other complications that follow, since your thyroid is actually rather important to your immune system and your emotional stability, and a bunch of other things you never think about until yours doesn't work right.
Anyway. On this years ultrasound they found a nodule that they decided was concerning. Concerning enough that they sent me for a biopsy.
I was supposed to have that biopsy today, and I have a follow-up with my endocrinologist next week. I've spent the past month quietly freaking out, to be honest. It doesn't matter how many times my doctor told me that the chances of it being anything serious are extremely low, or how even if it did turn out to be cancerous that thyroid cancer is extremely treatable.
I've lost a lot of people to cancer.
They always tell you it's treatable, in the beginning.
Sometimes that turns out to be a lie.
I went into the imaging offices today prepared to have needles stuck into my neck so I could find out what I needed to do.
Turns out I don't need to do anything.
The radiology student couldn't find the nodule that was on my initial ultrasound. The radiology tech couldn't find it.
The doctor himself couldn't find it.
It's gone.
Maybe it was never there in the first place. The tech who did the initial ultrasound where the nodule was found was a fill-in - the normal nurse had broken her arm. The imaging center has better equipment - this is what they do and they're the best place around to get this kind of work done. They had me stretch my neck out when the original tech didn't. The position of your neck can affect the shape of your thyroid (amongst other things) and it can make it look like there are things in places that there aren't.
But the tech, my primary physician and my endocrinologist all saw it on the initial ultrasound pictures.
So...I think it was there. Or something was.
And it's gone.
Today is the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary.
I'm thankful, today of all days, that I'm back in my faith. That I had somewhere to turn my fear and worry to and know that no matter what happened, I had that strength to lean on.
The solution for this, obviously, is to have the thyroid entirely removed, but that's a surgery that's not really done lightly, given the position of the thyroid on your throat, etc. etc. It's not, from what I understand, a particularly risky or dangerous surgery, but I'm of the school that if you don't need to have a surgery you shouldn't have it. Any surgery carries risks. And there are other complications that follow, since your thyroid is actually rather important to your immune system and your emotional stability, and a bunch of other things you never think about until yours doesn't work right.
Anyway. On this years ultrasound they found a nodule that they decided was concerning. Concerning enough that they sent me for a biopsy.
I was supposed to have that biopsy today, and I have a follow-up with my endocrinologist next week. I've spent the past month quietly freaking out, to be honest. It doesn't matter how many times my doctor told me that the chances of it being anything serious are extremely low, or how even if it did turn out to be cancerous that thyroid cancer is extremely treatable.
I've lost a lot of people to cancer.
They always tell you it's treatable, in the beginning.
Sometimes that turns out to be a lie.
I went into the imaging offices today prepared to have needles stuck into my neck so I could find out what I needed to do.
Turns out I don't need to do anything.
The radiology student couldn't find the nodule that was on my initial ultrasound. The radiology tech couldn't find it.
The doctor himself couldn't find it.
It's gone.
Maybe it was never there in the first place. The tech who did the initial ultrasound where the nodule was found was a fill-in - the normal nurse had broken her arm. The imaging center has better equipment - this is what they do and they're the best place around to get this kind of work done. They had me stretch my neck out when the original tech didn't. The position of your neck can affect the shape of your thyroid (amongst other things) and it can make it look like there are things in places that there aren't.
But the tech, my primary physician and my endocrinologist all saw it on the initial ultrasound pictures.
So...I think it was there. Or something was.
And it's gone.
Today is the feast of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary.
I'm thankful, today of all days, that I'm back in my faith. That I had somewhere to turn my fear and worry to and know that no matter what happened, I had that strength to lean on.
Sunday, June 26, 2016
If You Feel Judged, That Would Be Me
I want to start doing book reviews on here again, only, you know, better this time. But I'm always torn between not saying enough about the book and possibly saying too much.
Maybe this time I'll be able to strike a balance. We'll see.
In the mean time, I'm working late tonight - the guy who usually works weekends is in Cuba visiting his family with his son - and listening to my podcasts. The one I'm listening to right now is Real Ghost Stories Online.
Basically, people call or write in to this podcast which is run by a husband and wife and tell their 'haunting' story. I use the quotes because sometimes I'm certain that these people are definitely making a mountain out of a molehill or are misinterpreting what is happening around them. They believe, so they believe that everything is a ghost or a demon or what have you. Which is just ridiculous, and I say that as someone who really does believe in ghosts.
Also, the people calling in clearly do not practice what they're going to say before they say it. Which they really should because my God, so many of them ramble and go on tangents and I would really like them to stop that. This is not, most of the time, a live call-in show. The calls are recorded and then played later, or the emails are read out loud by the husband half of the hosting team.
Anyway. For an example of people who are interpreting something wrongly (in my opinion), there was a woman who called into the show a couple of episodes back from what I'm listening to now. Her grandparents were apparently murdered and it was gruesome and horrible. After the murders, she started having nightmares about a 'woman' showing up in her room at night with her grandfather's head, demanding that she look at it. She wouldn't, and the woman would eventually go away in the nightmare.
The hosts validated her belief that it was some sort of spirit visiting her but reassured her that it was probably just a 'predator' ghost and not a demon.
Or maybe she's just dealing with a really traumatic experience via her subconscious. But that's not even brought up. Maybe I shouldn't blame them, I mean the show is supposed to be about ghosts, right? But if you believe everything that's thrown at you, there's no...standard, I guess. I think, if something has an alternate, realistic explanation then that's the explanation. It's only once you hit the wall of normal explanations that you can go to the supernatural.
I believe I've seen ghosts. But I also admit to myself and everyone else that there is a good chance that there are other explanations for what I saw or what happened. I don't go around declaring every bump in the night or speck of dust a ghost.
Because I'm a reasonable human being, okay?
ALSO, it seems like every other caller/writer on this story is an 'empath'.
That's not a real thing.
That's not a real thing the way Hannibal uses it, though I'll allow it since it's a *fictional* show about the love between two *very* strange, lonely men.
That's not a real thing the way they mean it.
Ah, Inigo Montoya. You feel my pain.
People can be empathetic. They can feel *empathy* for other people. But you do not literally experience other peoples' emotions as if they are your own. It's...it doesn't work that way.
It's not a real thing.
Then again, psychics. *throws confetti in the air* I don't believe in them either. So maybe my chakras are blocked or something.
Okay, that was a little sarcastic.
Still true.
Unrelated, I love how I already had tags for every random thing in this post.
I'm consistent.
Additionally unrelated. I never get rid of anything that might still be useful. So I still have my scarves and snoods and such. I've discovered that snoods are fabulous for doing yard work since I've grown my hair out. It's long enough that even putting it up in a pony tail doesn't get it off of my neck and it's too thick to do that doubled up thing that some girls do. All that ever manages is to make me cut the hair tie out later so I don't rip off my scalp.
Score one for the snood.
Maybe this time I'll be able to strike a balance. We'll see.
In the mean time, I'm working late tonight - the guy who usually works weekends is in Cuba visiting his family with his son - and listening to my podcasts. The one I'm listening to right now is Real Ghost Stories Online.
Basically, people call or write in to this podcast which is run by a husband and wife and tell their 'haunting' story. I use the quotes because sometimes I'm certain that these people are definitely making a mountain out of a molehill or are misinterpreting what is happening around them. They believe, so they believe that everything is a ghost or a demon or what have you. Which is just ridiculous, and I say that as someone who really does believe in ghosts.
Also, the people calling in clearly do not practice what they're going to say before they say it. Which they really should because my God, so many of them ramble and go on tangents and I would really like them to stop that. This is not, most of the time, a live call-in show. The calls are recorded and then played later, or the emails are read out loud by the husband half of the hosting team.
Anyway. For an example of people who are interpreting something wrongly (in my opinion), there was a woman who called into the show a couple of episodes back from what I'm listening to now. Her grandparents were apparently murdered and it was gruesome and horrible. After the murders, she started having nightmares about a 'woman' showing up in her room at night with her grandfather's head, demanding that she look at it. She wouldn't, and the woman would eventually go away in the nightmare.
The hosts validated her belief that it was some sort of spirit visiting her but reassured her that it was probably just a 'predator' ghost and not a demon.
Or maybe she's just dealing with a really traumatic experience via her subconscious. But that's not even brought up. Maybe I shouldn't blame them, I mean the show is supposed to be about ghosts, right? But if you believe everything that's thrown at you, there's no...standard, I guess. I think, if something has an alternate, realistic explanation then that's the explanation. It's only once you hit the wall of normal explanations that you can go to the supernatural.
I believe I've seen ghosts. But I also admit to myself and everyone else that there is a good chance that there are other explanations for what I saw or what happened. I don't go around declaring every bump in the night or speck of dust a ghost.
Because I'm a reasonable human being, okay?
ALSO, it seems like every other caller/writer on this story is an 'empath'.
That's not a real thing.
That's not a real thing the way Hannibal uses it, though I'll allow it since it's a *fictional* show about the love between two *very* strange, lonely men.
That's not a real thing the way they mean it.
Ah, Inigo Montoya. You feel my pain.
People can be empathetic. They can feel *empathy* for other people. But you do not literally experience other peoples' emotions as if they are your own. It's...it doesn't work that way.
It's not a real thing.
Then again, psychics. *throws confetti in the air* I don't believe in them either. So maybe my chakras are blocked or something.
Okay, that was a little sarcastic.
Still true.
Unrelated, I love how I already had tags for every random thing in this post.
I'm consistent.
Additionally unrelated. I never get rid of anything that might still be useful. So I still have my scarves and snoods and such. I've discovered that snoods are fabulous for doing yard work since I've grown my hair out. It's long enough that even putting it up in a pony tail doesn't get it off of my neck and it's too thick to do that doubled up thing that some girls do. All that ever manages is to make me cut the hair tie out later so I don't rip off my scalp.
Score one for the snood.
Wednesday, June 15, 2016
Caution: Be-Aware of Gators
I had to get up early this morning, after working late last night due to work based shenanigans.
Mid running around, getting all the animals taken care of, dogs walked, chickens fed and iced (we put ice in their waters to help keep them cool) and listening to Kellogg our newest rooster try to crow (he sounds like the worlds tiniest, saddest fog horn at the moment) I hear the news that there was a gator attack last night.
*sigh*
Here's a link to the story: Alligator Attacks Toddler at Disney Hotel.
This is just *sad*. This poor family is on vacation and this happens. And I don't know, I started by thinking that this is a tragedy that is no one's fault, just a...matter of nature being nature, but I'm starting to think that maybe Disney could have taken some more precautions, warned people about the danger better. But this is just based on what I'm reading in the news, not first hand knowledge, and there may be warnings and precautions I'm not aware of.
Disney has signs everywhere that the water is not for swimming because no matter how hard you patrol and attempt to make a 'gator-free' zone, the truth is that gators can wander in. They get up and walk from water source to water source in certain climates and times of the year. And they can just swim into this area, from what I understand these aren't self contained lakes.
Gators are stealthy. It's kind of their thing.
Gators are *everywhere* in Florida. It's a fact of life.
Body of water? Probably a couple of gators in there. People who grow up here just get used to it? Even people who've lived here for years get used to the idea that it is not necessarily safe to just hop in that nice looking canal or pond. Doesn't stop us from doing it, mind you, but we're at least aware of the dangers of our own actions.
This family is from Nebraska. I don't know if they've ever been to Florida before, or if this was their first trip, but there is no way that they were properly aware of the danger or they wouldn't have had their toddler in the water. No one puts their child in danger intentionally.
The one and only time my grandfather ever hit me was when I ran toward a canal when I was probably about this little boys age. He caught me and spanked me and I'm not sure which one of us was more upset, but you can bet your ass I didn't go near a canal again for years - I wasn't one of the kids jumping in to swim because, well, it left an impression.
I'm sure they saw the signs and stayed in the shallow water because they thought that was safe, because the signs say 'No Swimming'. If the signs I've seen in the news articles are accurate, they don't mention gators, just ask the visitors not to swim please. I've never stayed at the Grand Floridian so I can't say from experience if there are other warning somewhere along the beach.
Would the family have acted differently if the signs mentioned there being gators in the water, even as a possibility? I think they would have.
The articles all quote the authorities as saying that they're still holding out hope, looking for the boy. But, honestly, they're not going to find him alive. They might not even catch the right gator, if it was just passing through. A gator might not be a crocodile, though we have those in Florida too now, and no ones quite sure how they got here, so isn't that exciting, but they're still deadly. They're predators.
Earlier in the month they found the body of a man in the mouth of a gator a bit further north of where I live. They're still not sure if the gator killed him or if the man died of other causes and the gator was just feeding opportunistically.
There's a better than good chance that somewhere along the line, this gator was fed by people. Maybe not even in the area where the attack happened, mind you. Gators who are fed loose their natural caution around people. They associate people with food. And that's where attacks happen. Not all the time, but enough that it's a known factor. There's a reason we're told not to feed the wildlife.
They haven't caught the gator yet, but they've caught at least four others (adding to the tragedy is that they have to kill the gators they catch - not at all on the scale of losing your child, but just one more thing) in the area. The one that made the attack is supposed to be between 4 and 7 feet.
Let's say the average weight of a 4-foot gator is 240 lbs. A 7-foot gator might be 420 lbs. (All very rough estimates, mind). That's not 240 pounds of human. That's muscle. Prehistoric muscle. The parents tried to save their son, and miracles can happen, but the chances were never good. It's always weighted on the side of the gator.
Mid running around, getting all the animals taken care of, dogs walked, chickens fed and iced (we put ice in their waters to help keep them cool) and listening to Kellogg our newest rooster try to crow (he sounds like the worlds tiniest, saddest fog horn at the moment) I hear the news that there was a gator attack last night.
*sigh*
Here's a link to the story: Alligator Attacks Toddler at Disney Hotel.
This is just *sad*. This poor family is on vacation and this happens. And I don't know, I started by thinking that this is a tragedy that is no one's fault, just a...matter of nature being nature, but I'm starting to think that maybe Disney could have taken some more precautions, warned people about the danger better. But this is just based on what I'm reading in the news, not first hand knowledge, and there may be warnings and precautions I'm not aware of.
Disney has signs everywhere that the water is not for swimming because no matter how hard you patrol and attempt to make a 'gator-free' zone, the truth is that gators can wander in. They get up and walk from water source to water source in certain climates and times of the year. And they can just swim into this area, from what I understand these aren't self contained lakes.
Gators are stealthy. It's kind of their thing.
Gators are *everywhere* in Florida. It's a fact of life.
Body of water? Probably a couple of gators in there. People who grow up here just get used to it? Even people who've lived here for years get used to the idea that it is not necessarily safe to just hop in that nice looking canal or pond. Doesn't stop us from doing it, mind you, but we're at least aware of the dangers of our own actions.
This family is from Nebraska. I don't know if they've ever been to Florida before, or if this was their first trip, but there is no way that they were properly aware of the danger or they wouldn't have had their toddler in the water. No one puts their child in danger intentionally.
The one and only time my grandfather ever hit me was when I ran toward a canal when I was probably about this little boys age. He caught me and spanked me and I'm not sure which one of us was more upset, but you can bet your ass I didn't go near a canal again for years - I wasn't one of the kids jumping in to swim because, well, it left an impression.
I'm sure they saw the signs and stayed in the shallow water because they thought that was safe, because the signs say 'No Swimming'. If the signs I've seen in the news articles are accurate, they don't mention gators, just ask the visitors not to swim please. I've never stayed at the Grand Floridian so I can't say from experience if there are other warning somewhere along the beach.
Would the family have acted differently if the signs mentioned there being gators in the water, even as a possibility? I think they would have.
The articles all quote the authorities as saying that they're still holding out hope, looking for the boy. But, honestly, they're not going to find him alive. They might not even catch the right gator, if it was just passing through. A gator might not be a crocodile, though we have those in Florida too now, and no ones quite sure how they got here, so isn't that exciting, but they're still deadly. They're predators.
Earlier in the month they found the body of a man in the mouth of a gator a bit further north of where I live. They're still not sure if the gator killed him or if the man died of other causes and the gator was just feeding opportunistically.
There's a better than good chance that somewhere along the line, this gator was fed by people. Maybe not even in the area where the attack happened, mind you. Gators who are fed loose their natural caution around people. They associate people with food. And that's where attacks happen. Not all the time, but enough that it's a known factor. There's a reason we're told not to feed the wildlife.
They haven't caught the gator yet, but they've caught at least four others (adding to the tragedy is that they have to kill the gators they catch - not at all on the scale of losing your child, but just one more thing) in the area. The one that made the attack is supposed to be between 4 and 7 feet.
Let's say the average weight of a 4-foot gator is 240 lbs. A 7-foot gator might be 420 lbs. (All very rough estimates, mind). That's not 240 pounds of human. That's muscle. Prehistoric muscle. The parents tried to save their son, and miracles can happen, but the chances were never good. It's always weighted on the side of the gator.
Monday, June 13, 2016
Fearmongering - Coming to a Person Near You
I don't think anyone can deny that what happened in Orlando is horrific and a tragedy. We're all thankful that the other attack in LA was stopped before anyone else could be killed.
And if you can deny it, go away. I have no desire to talk to you. There's something wrong with you, on a basic human level.
I don't normally talk about these things when they happen because, honestly, we're surrounded by it in the news all the time. People who are far better informed and closer to the issue talk about it and what I have to say is nothing more than, "Hell, people are f*cked up."
I know one young man who lives in Orlando, and who is gay. He's safe, thankfully, but the irony is that he just got back from a trip to Europe with his aunt (who I work with) to celebrate him getting his Master's degree. And their entire family was worried about them going to France and having a terror attack happen while they were in Paris. And they come home to this.
*sigh*
People at work are all talking about how they're fairly certain this latest attack has put Trump into the White House. And I'd like to think that people aren't that reactionary and fearful, but I think we all know that's wishful thinking. I know people in my own family who have been getting more and more terrified with every incident and I don't think it would take much to tip them over to the side of whoever they think will keep the 'bad guys' out.
Leaving aside the impossibility of, oh, let's say, building a wall to keep out anyone who scares us (read is different than us), the man who attacked the club in Orlando was an American citizen. What are we going to do? Round up anyone of Middle Eastern descent and put them into camps? We did that in WWII with people of Japanese descent. It worked out really well. /sarcasm
My own mother was telling me last night that this latest attack has her and my dad thinking about getting a gun. I'm not opposed to guns in responsible hands, and everyone in my family has been taught how to shoot, though of course we'll need to take classes to get our certifications up to date. But, and I did ask my mother, what good will that do unless she thinks ISIS is coming to our house.
And if you can deny it, go away. I have no desire to talk to you. There's something wrong with you, on a basic human level.
I don't normally talk about these things when they happen because, honestly, we're surrounded by it in the news all the time. People who are far better informed and closer to the issue talk about it and what I have to say is nothing more than, "Hell, people are f*cked up."
I know one young man who lives in Orlando, and who is gay. He's safe, thankfully, but the irony is that he just got back from a trip to Europe with his aunt (who I work with) to celebrate him getting his Master's degree. And their entire family was worried about them going to France and having a terror attack happen while they were in Paris. And they come home to this.
*sigh*
People at work are all talking about how they're fairly certain this latest attack has put Trump into the White House. And I'd like to think that people aren't that reactionary and fearful, but I think we all know that's wishful thinking. I know people in my own family who have been getting more and more terrified with every incident and I don't think it would take much to tip them over to the side of whoever they think will keep the 'bad guys' out.
Leaving aside the impossibility of, oh, let's say, building a wall to keep out anyone who scares us (read is different than us), the man who attacked the club in Orlando was an American citizen. What are we going to do? Round up anyone of Middle Eastern descent and put them into camps? We did that in WWII with people of Japanese descent. It worked out really well. /sarcasm
My own mother was telling me last night that this latest attack has her and my dad thinking about getting a gun. I'm not opposed to guns in responsible hands, and everyone in my family has been taught how to shoot, though of course we'll need to take classes to get our certifications up to date. But, and I did ask my mother, what good will that do unless she thinks ISIS is coming to our house.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Confession and the Modern Amber
One of the things I've struggled with in being Catholic is Confession. I never really *got it*. Possibly because I've never done anything that I really felt bad for? I mean I've done bad things, just like anyone else but I've never done anything REALLY bad that I felt bad about? If that makes sense.
Add to that the fact that I'm a fairly private person, about things that actually matter. My family, I think I've mentioned, is not the most open and sharing of peoples? We're loving, but there are things that we don't share. And I'm probably the worst of my family.
Which would be why they all think I was an angel growing up while my sister rightly earned the nickname Demon Spawn. I did a lot worse things than she did when we were growing up, I just never got caught and I know how to keep my mouth shut!
But I think I've finally got it. The Confession thing, I mean. Still not my favorite thing in the world, but it makes sense to me now.
I did a thing.
A BAD thing that I knew was bad and I did it anyway and it doesn't matter what it was, except that in the list of Ten Commandments kind of sins it's literally right on there in the Thou Shalt Not's. But I did it anyway and I felt sick about it immediately afterwards but it was already done and you can't go back in time and slap yourself before you do the stupid thing.
And sure, people have done far worse things in the history of the world, but this was...pretty bad. And high up on the list of things I swore I would never do because I'm not that kind of a person. But it happened and I just...there's no such thing as harmless flirting, okay? Flirting leads in a very specific direction and you should not be going that way with inappropriate people. But I can see now how people who probably don't even mean to do it wind up having affairs because it's a million tiny steps that don't seem bad on their own until you look back and you have wandered way, WAY, off the path you thought you were on.
I was sick about this the whole week, and I couldn't talk myself down from the knowledge that I had done something very wrong. So I got my butt in gear and did an examination of my conscience and hey, what do you know I had some other things that I felt I should bring up.
My parish holds confession on Saturday and it sounds ridiculous but I had to talk myself into going every step of the way. But I made it and I confessed and it was awkward and wonderful all at the same time.
I feel *better*.
I've done my penance and I have the Father's advice on what to do to help myself not fall down that path again. Maybe it seems silly to people, it probably does, it used to seem silly to me too but I don't feel sick about it any more. I don't think that what I did was right, or that I'm not culpable for my own actions but...I don't know how to explain it.
I got it off my chest, in an epic sort of way.
Add to that the fact that I'm a fairly private person, about things that actually matter. My family, I think I've mentioned, is not the most open and sharing of peoples? We're loving, but there are things that we don't share. And I'm probably the worst of my family.
Which would be why they all think I was an angel growing up while my sister rightly earned the nickname Demon Spawn. I did a lot worse things than she did when we were growing up, I just never got caught and I know how to keep my mouth shut!
But I think I've finally got it. The Confession thing, I mean. Still not my favorite thing in the world, but it makes sense to me now.
I did a thing.
A BAD thing that I knew was bad and I did it anyway and it doesn't matter what it was, except that in the list of Ten Commandments kind of sins it's literally right on there in the Thou Shalt Not's. But I did it anyway and I felt sick about it immediately afterwards but it was already done and you can't go back in time and slap yourself before you do the stupid thing.
And sure, people have done far worse things in the history of the world, but this was...pretty bad. And high up on the list of things I swore I would never do because I'm not that kind of a person. But it happened and I just...there's no such thing as harmless flirting, okay? Flirting leads in a very specific direction and you should not be going that way with inappropriate people. But I can see now how people who probably don't even mean to do it wind up having affairs because it's a million tiny steps that don't seem bad on their own until you look back and you have wandered way, WAY, off the path you thought you were on.
I was sick about this the whole week, and I couldn't talk myself down from the knowledge that I had done something very wrong. So I got my butt in gear and did an examination of my conscience and hey, what do you know I had some other things that I felt I should bring up.
My parish holds confession on Saturday and it sounds ridiculous but I had to talk myself into going every step of the way. But I made it and I confessed and it was awkward and wonderful all at the same time.
I feel *better*.
I've done my penance and I have the Father's advice on what to do to help myself not fall down that path again. Maybe it seems silly to people, it probably does, it used to seem silly to me too but I don't feel sick about it any more. I don't think that what I did was right, or that I'm not culpable for my own actions but...I don't know how to explain it.
I got it off my chest, in an epic sort of way.
Tuesday, March 1, 2016
People are allowed to change their minds, right?
Right.
A couple of years ago I made a big series of posts about how it was possible to be a Christian (specifically Catholic) and still support the death penalty. And I totally believed that at the time. I was all for executing people who had been found guilty by the courts.
My assumption, then, was that the system caught more bad people than it did good/innocent and that while an innocent person's death would be deeply unfortunate it was just a consequence of making sure that terrible people were off the streets.
This thinking was based on the idea that there would be a very small number of innocent people dying. Again, not saying that I thought that was a good thing, just that I thought the system worked more often than it didn't.
I've recently been listening to a lot of podcasts. Some of these are fictional (horror, because why not?) and then some of them are Catholic and some of them are true crime. It's the true crime ones that have made me rethink my position on the whole death penalty thing.
Because I honestly never realized before how many people are falsely accused, arrested and convicted. I'm not talking about the people who continue to claim their innocence, but people who are actually, legitimately, provably innocent. People who are eventually released by DNA or other kinds of evidence. People who, if they had lived in a death penalty state, would have been dead long before their innocence was proven.
Listening to their stories is just sort of chilling after a certain point. How many people have been put away for life because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or because they were the wrong background, the wrong skin color?
My default has always been to trust the system. I was raised by an ex-cop after all. I've only ever experienced the good side of the system. Even when I've been pulled over for speeding, I've been treated with respect and kindness. And I have been doing the things I've been stopped for. Admittedly I've never been caught doing anything *exceptionally* bad, but I still feel that if I was caught, let's say, shoplifting that I would be treated generally well. Given that I would be in the middle of committing a crime and all.
But I'm white. White in the South. I've never *had* to be afraid of the police, or anyone else in the judicial system. My experience is not the experience of all. Donna, my friend and movie buddy Donna, happens to be African-American. She's also Native American, but that's less obvious from just looking at her. She is the least racially sensitive person I know. She was raised on a reservation up in the mountains of New York and racism was apparently just not a thing that happened where she was raised. And even she has noticed that she gets pulled over rather frequently while driving home from her job - she works the night shift and is getting home at two, three a.m. sometimes. Pulled over on some rather slim reasoning at times, by the way.
And I still think that the system, generally, is meant for good. And the vast majority of people working in the system are good people. But there are flaws in the system. Mistakes are made. Not everyone is a good, honest citizen. Not even the people meant to police the rest of us. Prejudice can't be removed just by a little training and lip service to the thought that everyone is equal under the law.
So now I think I'd rather have a guilty person go free because we can't prove their guilt than have an innocent one locked up or put to death in error.
A couple of years ago I made a big series of posts about how it was possible to be a Christian (specifically Catholic) and still support the death penalty. And I totally believed that at the time. I was all for executing people who had been found guilty by the courts.
My assumption, then, was that the system caught more bad people than it did good/innocent and that while an innocent person's death would be deeply unfortunate it was just a consequence of making sure that terrible people were off the streets.
This thinking was based on the idea that there would be a very small number of innocent people dying. Again, not saying that I thought that was a good thing, just that I thought the system worked more often than it didn't.
I've recently been listening to a lot of podcasts. Some of these are fictional (horror, because why not?) and then some of them are Catholic and some of them are true crime. It's the true crime ones that have made me rethink my position on the whole death penalty thing.
Because I honestly never realized before how many people are falsely accused, arrested and convicted. I'm not talking about the people who continue to claim their innocence, but people who are actually, legitimately, provably innocent. People who are eventually released by DNA or other kinds of evidence. People who, if they had lived in a death penalty state, would have been dead long before their innocence was proven.
Listening to their stories is just sort of chilling after a certain point. How many people have been put away for life because they were in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or because they were the wrong background, the wrong skin color?
My default has always been to trust the system. I was raised by an ex-cop after all. I've only ever experienced the good side of the system. Even when I've been pulled over for speeding, I've been treated with respect and kindness. And I have been doing the things I've been stopped for. Admittedly I've never been caught doing anything *exceptionally* bad, but I still feel that if I was caught, let's say, shoplifting that I would be treated generally well. Given that I would be in the middle of committing a crime and all.
But I'm white. White in the South. I've never *had* to be afraid of the police, or anyone else in the judicial system. My experience is not the experience of all. Donna, my friend and movie buddy Donna, happens to be African-American. She's also Native American, but that's less obvious from just looking at her. She is the least racially sensitive person I know. She was raised on a reservation up in the mountains of New York and racism was apparently just not a thing that happened where she was raised. And even she has noticed that she gets pulled over rather frequently while driving home from her job - she works the night shift and is getting home at two, three a.m. sometimes. Pulled over on some rather slim reasoning at times, by the way.
And I still think that the system, generally, is meant for good. And the vast majority of people working in the system are good people. But there are flaws in the system. Mistakes are made. Not everyone is a good, honest citizen. Not even the people meant to police the rest of us. Prejudice can't be removed just by a little training and lip service to the thought that everyone is equal under the law.
So now I think I'd rather have a guilty person go free because we can't prove their guilt than have an innocent one locked up or put to death in error.
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
It's Lent!
Or, well, Ash Wednesday.
Which counts.
One of the guys who works the press here knows that I'm Catholic - we're not close enough for me to talk about the ups and downs thereof with him, so it's simpler to just say 'Catholic' because it's still true? Technically.
Anyway. When he came up for a replacement plate this afternoon he asked me where my ashes were. He, being a pressman, had his smeared on his forehead, where they were almost indistinguishable from the ink on him. The press is a messy, messy place. I think they might roll in it sometimes. I don't know why. Pressmen are weird.
Nice, but weird.
I told him that I'd wiped them off.
Which...is true. I hauled my butt out of bed at an ungodly hour, especially considering I worked nights last night, and went to the 7:30 Mass.
Because I miss it.
And that's kind of weird, right?
Right. It's weird.
But true.
I miss going to Mass and just generally....being Catholic. This is rather a new feeling, but maybe I shouldn't be all that surprised.
After all, I went to confession before I flew up to visit Heather last year. Just in case the plane crashed. That way I was covered, in the event of my death.
Which maybe sounds silly to people, I'm sure. But I felt better.
And I feel better having gone to Mass and gotten my ashes (even though I washed them off because I have a twitch, okay?) and doing my fast like a good Catholic girl. Or as close as I can come to it.
I've been here before, though, and burnt myself out right after conversion. So I'm easing back into it, testing the waters so to speak.
Some things still don't make sense, but at least at the moment I feel like maybe that doesn't matter so much.
In the mean time, I've become obsessed with podcasts (seriously, it's good that I've never done drugs, my personality tends towards the 'WOW, THAT WAS AWESOME!!!! LET'S DO IT AGAIN UNTIL WE PUKE!!!!') and the musical Hamilton. I'm at the point where I could listen to the original cast recording on repeat for forever.
This too, shall pass.
Though the Hannibal obsession hasn't yet, but that's a different problem.
Which counts.
One of the guys who works the press here knows that I'm Catholic - we're not close enough for me to talk about the ups and downs thereof with him, so it's simpler to just say 'Catholic' because it's still true? Technically.
Anyway. When he came up for a replacement plate this afternoon he asked me where my ashes were. He, being a pressman, had his smeared on his forehead, where they were almost indistinguishable from the ink on him. The press is a messy, messy place. I think they might roll in it sometimes. I don't know why. Pressmen are weird.
Nice, but weird.
I told him that I'd wiped them off.
Which...is true. I hauled my butt out of bed at an ungodly hour, especially considering I worked nights last night, and went to the 7:30 Mass.
Because I miss it.
And that's kind of weird, right?
Right. It's weird.
But true.
I miss going to Mass and just generally....being Catholic. This is rather a new feeling, but maybe I shouldn't be all that surprised.
After all, I went to confession before I flew up to visit Heather last year. Just in case the plane crashed. That way I was covered, in the event of my death.
Which maybe sounds silly to people, I'm sure. But I felt better.
And I feel better having gone to Mass and gotten my ashes (even though I washed them off because I have a twitch, okay?) and doing my fast like a good Catholic girl. Or as close as I can come to it.
I've been here before, though, and burnt myself out right after conversion. So I'm easing back into it, testing the waters so to speak.
Some things still don't make sense, but at least at the moment I feel like maybe that doesn't matter so much.
In the mean time, I've become obsessed with podcasts (seriously, it's good that I've never done drugs, my personality tends towards the 'WOW, THAT WAS AWESOME!!!! LET'S DO IT AGAIN UNTIL WE PUKE!!!!') and the musical Hamilton. I'm at the point where I could listen to the original cast recording on repeat for forever.
This too, shall pass.
Though the Hannibal obsession hasn't yet, but that's a different problem.
Sunday, January 10, 2016
So what is the basic definition of Christian, then?
Have you ever tried to have a really awkward conversation in a public place?
I do this on a semi-regular basis.
My friend Donna was raised on an Indian reservation in the mountains of New York. And, mind you, she is older. So all in all she comes from a rather different world. Sometimes things that are understood to be impolitic for general conversation don't strike her the same way.
And it's hard, on occasion, to convince her that maybe we should talk about these things at a later time. When we're not in a crowded theater waiting for a movie to start, for example.
Which is how I wind up trying to explain things quietly.
Today it was about Christianity.
Mind you, Donna was raised Episcopalian. She considers herself to be a Christian, though her education in such was basically - 'this is what we are, we do ABC'. *shrug*
The conversation started with her asking me what a Christian was. And I'm pretty sure that we've had a conversation about this before...actually I know that we have. There was a very long, late night discussion over why a person who believes that Jesus was the literal son of God (in the Greek/Roman gods sort of definition) couldn't be a Christian. The Trinity featured heavily in that one.
She was asking, this time, because of a plaque that she bought for decorating her apartment. When I was over there the other night we were talking about design ideas and she was showing me her fathers' fencing foils. Donna planned to mount them on her wall and I suggested that she get a family crest kind of thing to go beneath them to help complete the look.
Donna took my suggestion and found a coat of arms online that she purchased. It is, from her description, one that has a lion and a lamb on either side of a cross, with the banner reading 'Christian' over top. She bought that one because she is a Christian and while some of her family does originally come from England, they certainly don't have an actual familial coat of arms or crest. She was happy with her purchase until she saw an news story about the son of a gay couple who was denied access to a private school because his fathers are gay.
She was very upset that the school denied this boy due to the fact that the school was 'Christian' and she wanted to know if it was an actual Christian stance that homosexual couples are forbidden. Because if it was, she was going to have to un-declare herself a Christian.
Happily I could tell her that while it is the stance of a certain section of the Christian population there are plenty Christians who do not hold to this belief and so she can continue to be Christian without compromising her belief in marriage equality.
However, I'd have been even happier if we could have had this conversation almost literally anywhere else.
That, of course, is not the actual point. Just a side-note of 'my God, she's lucky I love her' kind of friendship angst. :)
Donna wanted to know what the definition of a Christian was, as I said before. And while I think we cleared up the actual heart of the issue, she still wanted to know what the definition actually was.
I told her the most basic definition is that of a 'follower of Christ', but that for the most part people accept as the base level of faith that a Christian is a person who believes that Christ was God (in some way) and that he was incarnated and sacrificed to expiate the sins of all of humanity.
Which, to me, is the most basic definition. I mean, okay, I know that there are a lot of different forms of Christianity and I'm sure somewhere out there there is a branch that doesn't believe some aspect of what I just said. But, honestly, to me? If you don't believe in the divinity of Jesus then...then you're not a Christian. You're not a bad person, by any means, and hey, call yourself what you like, but you don't meet the definition of Christian that I understand.
Mind you, I don't meet that definition of Christian, so throwing no stones here.
The conversation did make me wonder though, what is the most basic belief that a person would have to espouse in order to meet your definition of Christian?
I do this on a semi-regular basis.
My friend Donna was raised on an Indian reservation in the mountains of New York. And, mind you, she is older. So all in all she comes from a rather different world. Sometimes things that are understood to be impolitic for general conversation don't strike her the same way.
And it's hard, on occasion, to convince her that maybe we should talk about these things at a later time. When we're not in a crowded theater waiting for a movie to start, for example.
Which is how I wind up trying to explain things quietly.
Today it was about Christianity.
Mind you, Donna was raised Episcopalian. She considers herself to be a Christian, though her education in such was basically - 'this is what we are, we do ABC'. *shrug*
The conversation started with her asking me what a Christian was. And I'm pretty sure that we've had a conversation about this before...actually I know that we have. There was a very long, late night discussion over why a person who believes that Jesus was the literal son of God (in the Greek/Roman gods sort of definition) couldn't be a Christian. The Trinity featured heavily in that one.
She was asking, this time, because of a plaque that she bought for decorating her apartment. When I was over there the other night we were talking about design ideas and she was showing me her fathers' fencing foils. Donna planned to mount them on her wall and I suggested that she get a family crest kind of thing to go beneath them to help complete the look.
Donna took my suggestion and found a coat of arms online that she purchased. It is, from her description, one that has a lion and a lamb on either side of a cross, with the banner reading 'Christian' over top. She bought that one because she is a Christian and while some of her family does originally come from England, they certainly don't have an actual familial coat of arms or crest. She was happy with her purchase until she saw an news story about the son of a gay couple who was denied access to a private school because his fathers are gay.
She was very upset that the school denied this boy due to the fact that the school was 'Christian' and she wanted to know if it was an actual Christian stance that homosexual couples are forbidden. Because if it was, she was going to have to un-declare herself a Christian.
Happily I could tell her that while it is the stance of a certain section of the Christian population there are plenty Christians who do not hold to this belief and so she can continue to be Christian without compromising her belief in marriage equality.
However, I'd have been even happier if we could have had this conversation almost literally anywhere else.
That, of course, is not the actual point. Just a side-note of 'my God, she's lucky I love her' kind of friendship angst. :)
Donna wanted to know what the definition of a Christian was, as I said before. And while I think we cleared up the actual heart of the issue, she still wanted to know what the definition actually was.
I told her the most basic definition is that of a 'follower of Christ', but that for the most part people accept as the base level of faith that a Christian is a person who believes that Christ was God (in some way) and that he was incarnated and sacrificed to expiate the sins of all of humanity.
Which, to me, is the most basic definition. I mean, okay, I know that there are a lot of different forms of Christianity and I'm sure somewhere out there there is a branch that doesn't believe some aspect of what I just said. But, honestly, to me? If you don't believe in the divinity of Jesus then...then you're not a Christian. You're not a bad person, by any means, and hey, call yourself what you like, but you don't meet the definition of Christian that I understand.
Mind you, I don't meet that definition of Christian, so throwing no stones here.
The conversation did make me wonder though, what is the most basic belief that a person would have to espouse in order to meet your definition of Christian?
Tuesday, September 8, 2015
No but really...
I'm going to a new doctor, after my last one told me that 'some people are just fat' and couldn't come up with any helpful ideas to help me keep losing weight. Which is an issue, okay? I feel like that is not the appropriate answer to someone who needs to lose weight and is looking for ways to supplement diet and exercise.
Anyway. There's always the first little interview, with the nurse, where they ask about family background, etc. and while I can give the information for my mother's side I have no information on my father's side of the family.
Which, while certainly not ideal, is hardly an unusual circumstance, though you would have thought so given how many times the nurse had to repeat 'unknown' to me.
Nurse: 'Father?'
Me: 'Unknown.'
Nurse: *puzzled look*
Me: 'As in, I do not know anything about him. Un. Known.'
Is that really such an unusual state of affairs, do you think?
The other thing that amused me was the doctors disbelief when I told her that I don't drink. She's put me on a medication that will make you sick if you drink alcohol while you're on it. She kept repeating that I couldn't drink *at all* while on this and I kept telling her it wasn't a problem, since I don't drink. At. All.
I know that people my age are expected to be...alcoholically active, lets call it. But there are plenty of people who don't drink for one reason or another.
Anyway, I left the appointment happy with the doctor but feeling like I might be a little weird. Which is okay since I suspected as much already.
And it all sort of reminded me of the interview that I had when I was converting to Catholicism. The deacon asked me why I was interested in Catholicism and I had an answer about how I was looking for the "original" version of Christianity and Catholicism seemed best.
He asked me if I was looking for the oldest, why not convert to Judaism.
I had a flippant response about how I didn't want to give up bacon. Because Bacon.
Years later and I wonder about the obsession with bacon and generally pork related foods in the South and maybe elsewhere? I don't know how prevalent Pork is King is elsewhere in the country. I mean pork is delicious, sure, but it's not all that good for you actually and why are we so obsessed with getting to eat pork?
Anyway. There's always the first little interview, with the nurse, where they ask about family background, etc. and while I can give the information for my mother's side I have no information on my father's side of the family.
Which, while certainly not ideal, is hardly an unusual circumstance, though you would have thought so given how many times the nurse had to repeat 'unknown' to me.
Nurse: 'Father?'
Me: 'Unknown.'
Nurse: *puzzled look*
Me: 'As in, I do not know anything about him. Un. Known.'
Is that really such an unusual state of affairs, do you think?
The other thing that amused me was the doctors disbelief when I told her that I don't drink. She's put me on a medication that will make you sick if you drink alcohol while you're on it. She kept repeating that I couldn't drink *at all* while on this and I kept telling her it wasn't a problem, since I don't drink. At. All.
I know that people my age are expected to be...alcoholically active, lets call it. But there are plenty of people who don't drink for one reason or another.
Anyway, I left the appointment happy with the doctor but feeling like I might be a little weird. Which is okay since I suspected as much already.
And it all sort of reminded me of the interview that I had when I was converting to Catholicism. The deacon asked me why I was interested in Catholicism and I had an answer about how I was looking for the "original" version of Christianity and Catholicism seemed best.
He asked me if I was looking for the oldest, why not convert to Judaism.
I had a flippant response about how I didn't want to give up bacon. Because Bacon.
Years later and I wonder about the obsession with bacon and generally pork related foods in the South and maybe elsewhere? I don't know how prevalent Pork is King is elsewhere in the country. I mean pork is delicious, sure, but it's not all that good for you actually and why are we so obsessed with getting to eat pork?
Monday, September 7, 2015
So....that happened....
I got my DNA results from Ancestry.com finally!
In spite of what my co-workers believed, it turns out that I'm not an alien. *Or* there's a huge conspiracy to cover up my alien origins and the Men in Black will be coming soon. One of those two things. :)
In the totally not a surprise category, I'm Super Super White. Super White. Like...IDK. White.
Filed under, kind of a surprise....there's a lot of Scandinavian in there. Which, to be fair, the Scandinavian DNA blob covers a chunk of Germany, as does the Eastern European DNA blob. And I know there's some Czech in the family on my Grandfather's side, so that all makes sense really.
The Irish thing is new. Though, looking at the blob, it covers Scotland which is where I was told my biological father's family is from. So that might just be a matter of genetic semantics, I guess. It thrilled my other coworker though because we've had this fun Ireland vs. Scotland thing going and now she says I have to come to her side since I'm Irish. Bah.
Jamie Fraser forever!!! LOL
I do find the Italy/Greece trace kind of interesting. I'm guessing that that's likely from my father's side as well, since my mother's side is all German/Easter European. And I keep remembering that little old lady at the Greek Orthodox church who insisted that I *had* to be Greek. Well, okay, maybe a little then. :)
The trace regions that are less than 1% I find more interesting, even though from what I read on the site they may turn up to mean nothing because they're such a low percentage. But if they *are* true genetic traces, how far back are they that they even show up at all?
All in all though, no real surprises.
The Vikings clearly Got Around though. :D
And now my Peruvian coworker (she who declared me an alien) has agreed that while I'm not an alien I must be a Viking vampire - since Romania is included in the Easter European DNA blob and Vlad Dracula is part of the little write up Ancestry does on the region.
I can work with that.
In spite of what my co-workers believed, it turns out that I'm not an alien. *Or* there's a huge conspiracy to cover up my alien origins and the Men in Black will be coming soon. One of those two things. :)
In the totally not a surprise category, I'm Super Super White. Super White. Like...IDK. White.
Filed under, kind of a surprise....there's a lot of Scandinavian in there. Which, to be fair, the Scandinavian DNA blob covers a chunk of Germany, as does the Eastern European DNA blob. And I know there's some Czech in the family on my Grandfather's side, so that all makes sense really.
The Irish thing is new. Though, looking at the blob, it covers Scotland which is where I was told my biological father's family is from. So that might just be a matter of genetic semantics, I guess. It thrilled my other coworker though because we've had this fun Ireland vs. Scotland thing going and now she says I have to come to her side since I'm Irish. Bah.
Jamie Fraser forever!!! LOL
I do find the Italy/Greece trace kind of interesting. I'm guessing that that's likely from my father's side as well, since my mother's side is all German/Easter European. And I keep remembering that little old lady at the Greek Orthodox church who insisted that I *had* to be Greek. Well, okay, maybe a little then. :)
The trace regions that are less than 1% I find more interesting, even though from what I read on the site they may turn up to mean nothing because they're such a low percentage. But if they *are* true genetic traces, how far back are they that they even show up at all?
All in all though, no real surprises.
The Vikings clearly Got Around though. :D
And now my Peruvian coworker (she who declared me an alien) has agreed that while I'm not an alien I must be a Viking vampire - since Romania is included in the Easter European DNA blob and Vlad Dracula is part of the little write up Ancestry does on the region.
I can work with that.
Tuesday, August 18, 2015
Not Even All That Late Night Maunderings
You know I started a really long rant about how just believing in God doesn't necessarily mean anything but I'm not feeling it anymore so I deleted it.
My point, I think, was that it's not just enough to believe in God or gods or what have you. You can have an incredibly passive kind of faith in that way. After all, I believe in God but does that inform my life in any way?
I can tell you that at this point it really doesn't. It's not even as though it's an elephant in the room or something that I worry about very much. I know that I'm a better person when I believe, when I follow a religious path in my life. General *waves hands* belief doesn't do it for me in the long run. I actually forget about it and treat religion like an interesting though experiment. But it doesn't make me want to be better, for all it's inherent fascination when you're picking theology apart.
So for me, agnosticism (though what I've described really isn't agnosticism after all) doesn't really work. It leaves me *wanting*. I know that many people can live quite happily like this or without any faith at all and more power to them, right? But I need the framework of a religion in order to feel *correct*, I guess.
Then again, that brings me back to the always present issue....which one?
So far I've wavered mostly between Christianity and Islam. But neither feel right in the way I need them to in order to make a choice. Why not just choose the one that seems almost right? Well, but I did that when I converted to Catholicism and we see that I just eventually fell out again because I couldn't make it stick, mentally. I've no desire to do that again. And maybe I should take the 'feel' of things out of the equation, but what else are you supposed to go on when nothing seems factually more likely than anything else?
Arguments can be made for and against pretty much everything. When you choose a religion there must inherently be that leap of faith. Ha ha, see what I did there? LOL Okay it wasn't *that* punny. :P
Still, that leap has to be based on something, right? A feeling or the certain knowledge that what you're leaping to is correct. Lacking the knowledge of 'correctness' and the feeling of rightness, what am I supposed to do?
My point, I think, was that it's not just enough to believe in God or gods or what have you. You can have an incredibly passive kind of faith in that way. After all, I believe in God but does that inform my life in any way?
I can tell you that at this point it really doesn't. It's not even as though it's an elephant in the room or something that I worry about very much. I know that I'm a better person when I believe, when I follow a religious path in my life. General *waves hands* belief doesn't do it for me in the long run. I actually forget about it and treat religion like an interesting though experiment. But it doesn't make me want to be better, for all it's inherent fascination when you're picking theology apart.
So for me, agnosticism (though what I've described really isn't agnosticism after all) doesn't really work. It leaves me *wanting*. I know that many people can live quite happily like this or without any faith at all and more power to them, right? But I need the framework of a religion in order to feel *correct*, I guess.
Then again, that brings me back to the always present issue....which one?
So far I've wavered mostly between Christianity and Islam. But neither feel right in the way I need them to in order to make a choice. Why not just choose the one that seems almost right? Well, but I did that when I converted to Catholicism and we see that I just eventually fell out again because I couldn't make it stick, mentally. I've no desire to do that again. And maybe I should take the 'feel' of things out of the equation, but what else are you supposed to go on when nothing seems factually more likely than anything else?
Arguments can be made for and against pretty much everything. When you choose a religion there must inherently be that leap of faith. Ha ha, see what I did there? LOL Okay it wasn't *that* punny. :P
Still, that leap has to be based on something, right? A feeling or the certain knowledge that what you're leaping to is correct. Lacking the knowledge of 'correctness' and the feeling of rightness, what am I supposed to do?
Tuesday, August 11, 2015
Who Do You Think You Are?
Every so often I get an urge to really get into my genealogy. My great-grandfather did a family tree (back before you could do such things on the internet) and my grandmother and now my mother became the keepers of it. So I even have a pretty good place to start.
Well the bug has bitten again, only this time I mean to do something about it. I joined Ancestry.com and they have this thing which I think is pretty neat where you can get your DNA tested and they'll tell you the genetic background of your family. As in, you're 50% Scottish, 10% German, 5% Native American, etc. etc.
I bought the kit for this, so now I'm just waiting for it to show up in the mail so I can spit in a tube and learn my past! Admittedly, on my mothers side there's not much mystery. We're German. So German. Much German. And some Czech. Maybe some Polish. But mostly German. So sayeth the Family Tree! And my grandmother, when she was alive, bless her So Very German soul.
But my father, for obvious reasons, is a mystery. I was always told his family was Scottish but his last name actually has an Irish...flavor to it, I guess? And honestly, who knows? Not me.
I'm actually kind of excited to find out where my genes come from, in broad strokes. And I'm working on the genealogy itself, as I get time. This coming weekend I'm going to dig out all the boxes of family stuff my mother has and lay claim to it for a while. The site is really interesting, even just knowing the couple of things I know off the top of my head I've found censuses from when my Grandmother was growing up and from my great-grandfather's childhood too. And they have a picture of my great-grandparents' headstone up in Ohio which I found pretty neat.
I'm not telling my mother about the DNA testing though. Couldn't tell you why, but I feel like I want to keep that private (as she posts about it on the internet for all and sundry to see). It'll be a couple of months anyway, between waiting to get the kit and then waiting for the results, but there you go. Aside from goggling at the idiotic kinds of books that get published and the people we have running for president, that's my new hobby.
Well the bug has bitten again, only this time I mean to do something about it. I joined Ancestry.com and they have this thing which I think is pretty neat where you can get your DNA tested and they'll tell you the genetic background of your family. As in, you're 50% Scottish, 10% German, 5% Native American, etc. etc.
I bought the kit for this, so now I'm just waiting for it to show up in the mail so I can spit in a tube and learn my past! Admittedly, on my mothers side there's not much mystery. We're German. So German. Much German. And some Czech. Maybe some Polish. But mostly German. So sayeth the Family Tree! And my grandmother, when she was alive, bless her So Very German soul.
But my father, for obvious reasons, is a mystery. I was always told his family was Scottish but his last name actually has an Irish...flavor to it, I guess? And honestly, who knows? Not me.
I'm actually kind of excited to find out where my genes come from, in broad strokes. And I'm working on the genealogy itself, as I get time. This coming weekend I'm going to dig out all the boxes of family stuff my mother has and lay claim to it for a while. The site is really interesting, even just knowing the couple of things I know off the top of my head I've found censuses from when my Grandmother was growing up and from my great-grandfather's childhood too. And they have a picture of my great-grandparents' headstone up in Ohio which I found pretty neat.
I'm not telling my mother about the DNA testing though. Couldn't tell you why, but I feel like I want to keep that private (as she posts about it on the internet for all and sundry to see). It'll be a couple of months anyway, between waiting to get the kit and then waiting for the results, but there you go. Aside from goggling at the idiotic kinds of books that get published and the people we have running for president, that's my new hobby.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
You say 'Father' and I hear nothing good...
I sometimes feel like I'm beating a dead horse every time I come back to the concept of God as 'Father' and how it just does. not. work. for. me.
But here we are again.
I had a nightmare about my step-father last night.
Keep in mind that this is a man I haven't seen in more than a decade.
I haven't spoken to him in probably two years, even briefly.
I don't think about him...ever, really. Not as anything other than a thing that happened.
And I had a nightmare about him finding me last night.
That's what a 'father' is to me, at the end of it all. Someone to be afraid of, to try and appease their mercurial whims even when you know that no matter what you do, no matter how good you think you are, there will be some new and arbitrary rule that you missed and broke and that's when the screaming starts.
Or not. And the anger will still descend.
Just because.
There's no dissonance for me between the 'angry' God of the Old Testament and the 'loving' God of the New. Because fathers do that. They act loving and caring and 'no one else would have taken you in, made you their own, I chose you', one second and rain blood and terror on you the next.
I *get* the 'fatherhood' of God, I do.
But I don't want it.
It scares me.
Because 'father' is a frightening concept for me.
At least I have the comfort of knowing that eventually my step-father will die. One day he will overdose or drink himself to death or just flat out die and be gone.
Part of me will still be afraid of him. But he'll be dead.
So there's that.
God as father...it's an eternally angry, hovering presence waiting for me at the edge of my life. Because I will always be failing, somehow, always be waiting for that loving face to turn.
But - but you can ask God for forgiveness, and He will because He is merciful, right? Right.
Only I can't trust it.
I can't tell you how many times I said I was sorry for whatever random offense I had committed and was 'forgiven' only for it to come back later, still that hovering accusation of how terrible I was. Even now, knowing that I am no more terrible than any other person on the planet, that I was actually a terribly well behaved child - out of fear if nothing else, I know that forgiveness is something you can't trust.
Not from a father.
Other people, sure.
Father's are creatures outside of human understanding or control.
I listen to preachers talk about the love of God the Father and I assume that when they hold the idea of father in their minds it is a very different sort of father than the one I have.
I certainly hope so, I wouldn't wish mine on anyone.
At the end of it all though, it means that I can't be comfortable with a Father-God. I can't.
This confuses some people that I've tried to explain it to, they always want to point out the good male role-models I've had, and I've tried to take what they say and apply it, to look at my grandfather as an example of God the Father, or my mothers' husband, who is also technically my step-father, but is an actual good man. And it might work, for a while, but I can't undo decades of learned association, I guess.
I always come back to the image of the 'father' I grew up with. The one scarred into my soul.
And I can't fit the two things together with any sort of comfort.
I can't worship God as a 'father' when a father is a terrible thing to have.
But here we are again.
I had a nightmare about my step-father last night.
Keep in mind that this is a man I haven't seen in more than a decade.
I haven't spoken to him in probably two years, even briefly.
I don't think about him...ever, really. Not as anything other than a thing that happened.
And I had a nightmare about him finding me last night.
That's what a 'father' is to me, at the end of it all. Someone to be afraid of, to try and appease their mercurial whims even when you know that no matter what you do, no matter how good you think you are, there will be some new and arbitrary rule that you missed and broke and that's when the screaming starts.
Or not. And the anger will still descend.
Just because.
There's no dissonance for me between the 'angry' God of the Old Testament and the 'loving' God of the New. Because fathers do that. They act loving and caring and 'no one else would have taken you in, made you their own, I chose you', one second and rain blood and terror on you the next.
I *get* the 'fatherhood' of God, I do.
But I don't want it.
It scares me.
Because 'father' is a frightening concept for me.
At least I have the comfort of knowing that eventually my step-father will die. One day he will overdose or drink himself to death or just flat out die and be gone.
Part of me will still be afraid of him. But he'll be dead.
So there's that.
God as father...it's an eternally angry, hovering presence waiting for me at the edge of my life. Because I will always be failing, somehow, always be waiting for that loving face to turn.
But - but you can ask God for forgiveness, and He will because He is merciful, right? Right.
Only I can't trust it.
I can't tell you how many times I said I was sorry for whatever random offense I had committed and was 'forgiven' only for it to come back later, still that hovering accusation of how terrible I was. Even now, knowing that I am no more terrible than any other person on the planet, that I was actually a terribly well behaved child - out of fear if nothing else, I know that forgiveness is something you can't trust.
Not from a father.
Other people, sure.
Father's are creatures outside of human understanding or control.
I listen to preachers talk about the love of God the Father and I assume that when they hold the idea of father in their minds it is a very different sort of father than the one I have.
I certainly hope so, I wouldn't wish mine on anyone.
At the end of it all though, it means that I can't be comfortable with a Father-God. I can't.
This confuses some people that I've tried to explain it to, they always want to point out the good male role-models I've had, and I've tried to take what they say and apply it, to look at my grandfather as an example of God the Father, or my mothers' husband, who is also technically my step-father, but is an actual good man. And it might work, for a while, but I can't undo decades of learned association, I guess.
I always come back to the image of the 'father' I grew up with. The one scarred into my soul.
And I can't fit the two things together with any sort of comfort.
I can't worship God as a 'father' when a father is a terrible thing to have.
Sunday, February 8, 2015
I'm Not Really a Responsible Adult. I Don't Even Play One on TV.
I keep meaning to get back to blogging, restart this blog, be myself again, but then I get distracted by a book or a show or I sit down to write and all I want to write about is angry things which is not what I really want to write about.
So I haven't done any of it.
Partially this is because I've been bad about taking my medicine like I should. Certainly my thyroid is not on the level of people who take prescriptions to keep them alive, though it is a permanent and degenerative autoimmune disorder. But if I forget to take my pill one morning it's not going to kill me or endanger me significantly. But it does throw me off. If I miss enough days or am off schedule enough I start to feel sick and cranky and irrationally out of control of my emotions. And I get to feeling like what I imagine depression feels like to some people. I don't want to do anything. I start to lack the energy to do anything but sleep.
Don't get me wrong, this is all my own fault. I know that I have a permanent health problem and I know what to do to maintain a base level of normalcy in my body. But sometimes I forget to do what I should, and since one of the side effects of my thyroid levels dipping in my memory gets worse, it's a slippery little slope.
But I'm being good and I'm feeling better, so inshallah, that won't be a problem anymore.
I've noticed that I'm angrier lately, and I'm not sure how much of that is just being out of whack hormonally and how much is that I've been without a solid religion for so long.
I know that there are plenty of people have no problem living without a faith to follow, but I suspect that I'm not one of them. Or maybe it's just a lingering disappointment in still not having a place to set my feet, so to speak.
Okay.
So I'll get back to the real posts soon, inshallah, but for now, a random observation.
There's a billboard that I pass sometimes that, unfortunately, is in a place I can't get a picture of. There's nowhere to pull over and get a shot of it and I'm not stupid enough to try and take a picture while driving. In spite of some extensive Googling I can't find an example anywhere. But let me tell you how amused I am at some of the billboards that *do* come up. And the fact that one of them is a Hobbit billboard.
Wait. Three. Three Hobbit billboards that Google thinks are about God.
*FOUR*. Google knows something we don't, people.
And one that tells people they can't hold hands with God while masturbating. Which...
I've got nothing.
It's got a sort of clouds and light background and the wording says, 'God is Lord and His is the Glory'.
Want to know what my first thought was, when I saw it?
'When did the Muslims get a billboard?'
I mean I've thought about it since then and I assume that it's actually another Christian billboard but the phrasing just feels so odd to me because I can't remember the last time I heard a Christian say 'God is Lord'. It's always 'Jesus is Lord'.
I really wish they'd put it in a better place so I could get a pic or put the name of their church on it somewhere. Of course it might be on it and I just can't see it because a) driving and b) there are trees.
Okay, end of randomness.
So I haven't done any of it.
Partially this is because I've been bad about taking my medicine like I should. Certainly my thyroid is not on the level of people who take prescriptions to keep them alive, though it is a permanent and degenerative autoimmune disorder. But if I forget to take my pill one morning it's not going to kill me or endanger me significantly. But it does throw me off. If I miss enough days or am off schedule enough I start to feel sick and cranky and irrationally out of control of my emotions. And I get to feeling like what I imagine depression feels like to some people. I don't want to do anything. I start to lack the energy to do anything but sleep.
Don't get me wrong, this is all my own fault. I know that I have a permanent health problem and I know what to do to maintain a base level of normalcy in my body. But sometimes I forget to do what I should, and since one of the side effects of my thyroid levels dipping in my memory gets worse, it's a slippery little slope.
But I'm being good and I'm feeling better, so inshallah, that won't be a problem anymore.
I've noticed that I'm angrier lately, and I'm not sure how much of that is just being out of whack hormonally and how much is that I've been without a solid religion for so long.
I know that there are plenty of people have no problem living without a faith to follow, but I suspect that I'm not one of them. Or maybe it's just a lingering disappointment in still not having a place to set my feet, so to speak.
Okay.
So I'll get back to the real posts soon, inshallah, but for now, a random observation.
There's a billboard that I pass sometimes that, unfortunately, is in a place I can't get a picture of. There's nowhere to pull over and get a shot of it and I'm not stupid enough to try and take a picture while driving. In spite of some extensive Googling I can't find an example anywhere. But let me tell you how amused I am at some of the billboards that *do* come up. And the fact that one of them is a Hobbit billboard.
Wait. Three. Three Hobbit billboards that Google thinks are about God.
*FOUR*. Google knows something we don't, people.
And one that tells people they can't hold hands with God while masturbating. Which...
I've got nothing.
It's got a sort of clouds and light background and the wording says, 'God is Lord and His is the Glory'.
Want to know what my first thought was, when I saw it?
'When did the Muslims get a billboard?'
I mean I've thought about it since then and I assume that it's actually another Christian billboard but the phrasing just feels so odd to me because I can't remember the last time I heard a Christian say 'God is Lord'. It's always 'Jesus is Lord'.
I really wish they'd put it in a better place so I could get a pic or put the name of their church on it somewhere. Of course it might be on it and I just can't see it because a) driving and b) there are trees.
Okay, end of randomness.
Sunday, September 21, 2014
The First Rule of Religion Is...
...we don't talk about religion.
At least in my house.
I don't discuss it with my parents because they follow a distinctly....*waves hands in the air* version of Christianity. They *believe*, but know very little about their own faith.
I cannot tell you how many times I have had to point out/remind one of them that according to their beliefs God didn't just *send* Jesus, that Jesus *was* God. Or how many times I have to point out that the New Testament didn't just spring out of nothingness and that historical context is important to understanding what they're reading.
BUT NO. THEY *BELIEVE* AND THAT'S ALL THAT'S NEEDED.
Logic and reason need not freaking apply.
But I made the mistake on Thursday of talking about religion with my father. And it all boiled down to him telling me that I think too much, throwing out the old line about having the faith of a child and that I need to 'shit or get off the pot'.
*headdesk*
*headdesk FOREVER*
So.
I admit that the minute you start telling me that my *thinking* is getting in the way of God and that I need to be a child who just *trusts* and *believes* that you have lost me.
Because I think. It's what I do. I lack the emotional gullibility to just *believe*. I have seen no miracles. I have experienced no transcendent moments of faith. If I cannot think my way to a point then how can I be expected to believe it?
And I was never the child who just *trusted*. Maybe parents are supposed to be our models of that, they're supposed to be trustworthy so that we can have that blind, loving trust in certain things. But I grew up without parents who could be trusted. And I cannot remember ever blindly believing anything anyone told me. I'm sure there was a time. It's a thing that kids do. But for me that time is so far in the past, was so fleeting that it's as good as a non-event.
But really my favorite part of his argument for why I need to just believe so I can make my choice was that if *his* choice (though he swears he has reasons for belief that he can't explain to anyone) is right then I'm going to hell if I don't make the right choice. Implied, of course, being that it's the same choice that he made.
So we have, in my father's Christianity, this: don't think too hard and be afraid of going to hell.
Yeah.
I can't imagine why none of this appeals to me.
At least in my house.
I don't discuss it with my parents because they follow a distinctly....*waves hands in the air* version of Christianity. They *believe*, but know very little about their own faith.
I cannot tell you how many times I have had to point out/remind one of them that according to their beliefs God didn't just *send* Jesus, that Jesus *was* God. Or how many times I have to point out that the New Testament didn't just spring out of nothingness and that historical context is important to understanding what they're reading.
BUT NO. THEY *BELIEVE* AND THAT'S ALL THAT'S NEEDED.
Logic and reason need not freaking apply.
But I made the mistake on Thursday of talking about religion with my father. And it all boiled down to him telling me that I think too much, throwing out the old line about having the faith of a child and that I need to 'shit or get off the pot'.
*headdesk*
*headdesk FOREVER*
So.
I admit that the minute you start telling me that my *thinking* is getting in the way of God and that I need to be a child who just *trusts* and *believes* that you have lost me.
Because I think. It's what I do. I lack the emotional gullibility to just *believe*. I have seen no miracles. I have experienced no transcendent moments of faith. If I cannot think my way to a point then how can I be expected to believe it?
And I was never the child who just *trusted*. Maybe parents are supposed to be our models of that, they're supposed to be trustworthy so that we can have that blind, loving trust in certain things. But I grew up without parents who could be trusted. And I cannot remember ever blindly believing anything anyone told me. I'm sure there was a time. It's a thing that kids do. But for me that time is so far in the past, was so fleeting that it's as good as a non-event.
But really my favorite part of his argument for why I need to just believe so I can make my choice was that if *his* choice (though he swears he has reasons for belief that he can't explain to anyone) is right then I'm going to hell if I don't make the right choice. Implied, of course, being that it's the same choice that he made.
So we have, in my father's Christianity, this: don't think too hard and be afraid of going to hell.
Yeah.
I can't imagine why none of this appeals to me.
Wednesday, September 3, 2014
My Brain Twin and I Share the Crown for Queen of Procrastinators
And to be perfectly honest I am the evil twin.
Without a doubt.
I could show you evidence but then I'd have to move out of the country and change my name. ;)
Clearly I am just a *tad* behind on the Gospel of John posts and I also have a couple of comments on the GoJ posts I've already made to reply to. But it's been a super crazy month. We've had people at work go on vacation which is good for them and good for my bank account but has me working either really early hours or really late hours and leaves very little time for blogging.
We also upgraded the system we use to produce our classified section (I work at a newspaper in case anyone missed that factoid) by a whole lot. It's beautiful. I may compose odes to the new system.
I mean it's really bad when the representative for Brainworks (the system we use) didn't believe that we weren't using a third party program between Brainworks and our Quark because the version we had was so old he didn't recognize the interface.
*faceplants into desk for a million years*
We also upgraded Quark. From Quark 4 to Quark 9.
I know we can all count and see how many versions there were between those two things.
We were working on Ancient Mac's.
ANCIENT.
Basically this:
Only we couldn't get on the internet anymore. Or access some of our (rather necessary) servers. Because ANCIENT.
We have been promised the opportunity to Office Space one of these bastards.
For anyone unfamiliar with Office Space (watch it it is hilarious....) here's what I mean. There is some mild (in my opinion) swearing for those who are sensitive to that or, you know, have kids.
Please do not underestimate how badly we want to do that.
ANYWAY.
With the two weeks it took to do the upgrade, install and training and vacations (none of them mine), I've just not had the energy or the time to blog.
And then I spent the last week not sleeping well due to nightmares. It's funny how you can think that you're completely over something and then your subconscious just laughs at you.
So I've just been taking care of myself.
Which mostly means lots of reading (let me tell you about the Stormlight Archive series one day. Mostly it will be a lot of squeeing and shaking you until you buy the books) and watching the Lord of the Rings in my free time. Basically I watched both Hobbit movies (currently released) and all three of the Lord of the Rings movies (extended edition on all where possible) in two days.
Gotta love three day weekends.
Which might explain why, when I performed a minor household repair with no input or assistance I did this:
Let's all just ignore how things actually turned out for Boromir and Gondor, okay?
Yes. Excellent.
So, in conclusion, I know I suck but I've accepted this fact. At least in this case I sucked for reasons of personal sanity maintenance.
I plan, inshallah, to start the posts up again this weekend and just do one post a week. I think it's a schedule with less pressure (all personally given) that I can keep up.
Without a doubt.
I could show you evidence but then I'd have to move out of the country and change my name. ;)
Clearly I am just a *tad* behind on the Gospel of John posts and I also have a couple of comments on the GoJ posts I've already made to reply to. But it's been a super crazy month. We've had people at work go on vacation which is good for them and good for my bank account but has me working either really early hours or really late hours and leaves very little time for blogging.
We also upgraded the system we use to produce our classified section (I work at a newspaper in case anyone missed that factoid) by a whole lot. It's beautiful. I may compose odes to the new system.
I mean it's really bad when the representative for Brainworks (the system we use) didn't believe that we weren't using a third party program between Brainworks and our Quark because the version we had was so old he didn't recognize the interface.
*faceplants into desk for a million years*
We also upgraded Quark. From Quark 4 to Quark 9.
I know we can all count and see how many versions there were between those two things.
We were working on Ancient Mac's.
ANCIENT.
Basically this:
Only we couldn't get on the internet anymore. Or access some of our (rather necessary) servers. Because ANCIENT.
We have been promised the opportunity to Office Space one of these bastards.
For anyone unfamiliar with Office Space (watch it it is hilarious....) here's what I mean. There is some mild (in my opinion) swearing for those who are sensitive to that or, you know, have kids.
Please do not underestimate how badly we want to do that.
ANYWAY.
With the two weeks it took to do the upgrade, install and training and vacations (none of them mine), I've just not had the energy or the time to blog.
And then I spent the last week not sleeping well due to nightmares. It's funny how you can think that you're completely over something and then your subconscious just laughs at you.
So I've just been taking care of myself.
Which mostly means lots of reading (let me tell you about the Stormlight Archive series one day. Mostly it will be a lot of squeeing and shaking you until you buy the books) and watching the Lord of the Rings in my free time. Basically I watched both Hobbit movies (currently released) and all three of the Lord of the Rings movies (extended edition on all where possible) in two days.
Gotta love three day weekends.
Which might explain why, when I performed a minor household repair with no input or assistance I did this:
Let's all just ignore how things actually turned out for Boromir and Gondor, okay?
Yes. Excellent.
So, in conclusion, I know I suck but I've accepted this fact. At least in this case I sucked for reasons of personal sanity maintenance.
I plan, inshallah, to start the posts up again this weekend and just do one post a week. I think it's a schedule with less pressure (all personally given) that I can keep up.
Friday, June 6, 2014
The Library Mid-2014
Heather mentioned that she wanted to see pics of the library so, after a neatening up, here they are.
First, a shelfie.
Heather insists that the person isn't supposed to be in the pic, but I disagree. So there I am, next to one of my favorite shelves.
You'll notice that a hard copy of Skin Game (the newest book in the DresdenFeels Files series) is missing. This is because I'm waiting for my drug book drug dealer to ship a special copy of it to me. But we're holding off to see if she has something else super special for my collection. :D So I'm pretending to be patient.
Can you see the patience in my face? Yeah.
Also, to anyone who came here for serious posts and such, sorry! Yesterday was my birthday (I am an old, old woman now) and today I spent cleaning and enjoying my last vacation day. I promise to return to posts about the Gospel of John tomorrow, and to answer the comments I have. But I am tired tonight.
SO OLD. SO. OLD.
First, a shelfie.
Heather insists that the person isn't supposed to be in the pic, but I disagree. So there I am, next to one of my favorite shelves.
You'll notice that a hard copy of Skin Game (the newest book in the Dresden
Can you see the patience in my face? Yeah.
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| I thought I'd try two pics for the Wall of Books to give people a better chance to see what's actually on the shelves. |
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| And part two. |
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| Manga...manga everywhere! Also the books under the tv are destined for Goodwill. There's some dvd's in there too. I'm purging the dvd collection. This involves watching a lot of really bad movies. |
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| DVDs I am keeping. Mine. ALL MINE. |
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| A mix of DVDs I will keep and ones I haven't watched yet. So many movies. |
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| Also, 'alphabetical' is a loose term when applied here. I group things how I want them. Like all the Lord of the Rings movies are with The Hobbit movies. Because reasons. Yes, I do own at least two copies of all of the LotR movies. Again, reasons. |
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| COMICS! so many comics...and a little Darth Vader. |
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| Manga in the corner by the bed. Always a hard shelf to get a pic of. |
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| Manga... |
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| Movies! Again, 'alphabetical'. All the MCU movies are together over here because Marvel Cinematic Universe. Otherwise they're all spread out and that's annoying. I know. I'm a special soul. |
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| Bet you can't guess what these are! |
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| Most of the 'Star-' fandoms represented right here. Also the good parts of Supernatural. Though the season finale this year gave me hope. |
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| Torchwood. Let me tell you about Torchwood one day. When you have time to listen to me cursing the writers for Children of Earth. And some X-Men stuff. Which I mostly just watch for the Erik/Charles of it all. And Wolverine. Everyone loves Wolverine. |
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| And the last of the shelves! Manga and the three video games I own! But look at that empty space there at the end of the shelf! I could buy more books! |
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| Bonus: The books I am currently reading. It doesn't show up well on Hawkeye's screen thanks to the glare, but I'm reading 'Death By Black Hole' by Neil deGrasse Tyson. And a prize of your choice to anyone who can correctly guess what movie I'm watching. >:D |
SO OLD. SO. OLD.
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