Sometimes, we have to learn the hard way from life; and sometimes, life teaches us a lesson that blows our minds.
There is nothing like writing down what one has learned to hammer the lesson home. Ever since writing a previous post, "The Movie-Cliche Rapist," I have had the impression of being guided by a force inside myself that knows what's best for me, that always looks out for me, that will never leave me and always guide me to do the right thing and make the right decision, if I only learn to listen to it. It feels like having some kind of secret superpower.
But oddly enough, I still don't believe that this "force" is from God, or is God. I get the distinct impression that "The Force" is inside me--and is me.
I use fanciful language, of course, to describe my "intuition;" my survival instinct.
The instinct is millions of years old (though the rest of me is not), so why wouldn't it know how to sense danger?
I feel grateful both for and to this instinct, for taking care of me. The instinct never abandons me, and I don't even have to pray to it.
Years of religious indoctrination have tried to kill this force within me, but it would not be killed. They tried to train me to distrust my "flesh" and look to ancient, offensive and fanciful texts for guidance. Now I don't have to do that anymore.
This mysterious force, that so many people have attributed to something or someone outside of themselves--maybe it was in them all along. Perhaps, in a way, I actually do know what it's like to have a "religious" or "spiritual" experience.
I think of the millions of years of evolution it took to get to this point in time, and I vaguely wonder if I'm sending gratitude to my hundreds of thousands of predecessors; in other words, if this feeling is some sort of ancestor worship.
Then again, maybe I'm setting myself up as my own goddess. But when you think about it, if it weren't for the threat of hell...why not? Why not be your own "god" or "goddess;" the person who calls the shots?
But while reflecting on all of these things, it made me wonder: Did all of this mean that I'm not an atheist anymore? Maybe this simply makes me "more spiritual than religious?"
I don't know how others would define it, but I'm not entirely sure that I could be called "spiritual" if I believe my intuition resides in my brain.
A friend of mine who has traveled extensively says that in Nepal they have a saying: "I honor the god within you." Do we all have "gods" within us? But if they're not separate entities, then they are us. And if they are us...why call them gods? This doesn't change my awe at the discovery of the incredible power that I believe is in all of us. Life blocks us from this power within us, makes us unaware...until we learn to become more of ourselves, more comfortable in our own skin.
Until we learn to listen to ourselves, instead of what we think God or others want from us.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Thursday, July 31, 2014
They Can't All Be Rapists And Idiots
I was looking through a bin of books outside the thrift shop the other day when I heard someone talking to me. I looked up, and a guy with a mohawk and a loud neon green shirt was asking me how I was. "Great, thank you," I smiled, and went back to looking at the books.
About a minute later, I heard his voice again. He was driving through the parking lot, and stopped to get my attention. "I just wanna tell you that I think you're really beautiful," he said.
My mind flashed back to my coworker at my first job, who had said I was cute, tried to kiss me...and years later I found out he was a wanted sex offender.
"Oh. Thank you."
He drove off, much to my relief. I didn't have to make a decision either way.
You should have given him your number, a voice in my head said to me, he seemed nice.
No, I thought. He was too confident, way too smooth--just like you-know-who.
I wondered if I was being fair to him. A part of me had been flattered, had wanted to believe he was nice, had wanted to oblige him. But I was halfway uncomfortable with his forwardness, and something in his manner.
Did I want to give him my number, I wondered? No, I thought. Tell him you already have someone. Hurt his feelings, he'll get over it. But don't hurt yourself.
I thought I had learned my lesson from my experience with my first job, but writing about it (see a previous post, "The Movie-Cliche Rapist," and the next post, "Magical Superpowers," for more on the story and my views of intuition and the survival instinct) had really hammered the lesson home: I was to be guided by my intuition, not by my "niceness." If someone made me uncomfortable, I was to throw him away.
It's a hard habit to break, though, not being nice.
Later the clerk at the convenience store starting talking to me. He seemed nice, and did not make me at all uncomfortable. Yet somehow he seemed not confident or exciting enough. I thanked him and left.
See? I thought to myself. I told you my intuition was magic!
You're too picky, my inner critic said. You can't expect everyone to be like Ben*. Not even Ben is like Ben anymore.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I thought. I'm an introvert, I don't like dates. To my inner critic, it sounded like a lame excuse, but I knew I didn't want to risk it being otherwise. I guess when you're in love, all you see are rapists and idiots.
*Ben is the Christian boy I have not seen in a long time but still (sometimes) have feelings for. Please see some previous posts, "Crushing On A Christian, Part 1 of 2" and "Crushing On A Christian, Part 2 of 2."
Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
About a minute later, I heard his voice again. He was driving through the parking lot, and stopped to get my attention. "I just wanna tell you that I think you're really beautiful," he said.
My mind flashed back to my coworker at my first job, who had said I was cute, tried to kiss me...and years later I found out he was a wanted sex offender.
"Oh. Thank you."
He drove off, much to my relief. I didn't have to make a decision either way.
You should have given him your number, a voice in my head said to me, he seemed nice.
No, I thought. He was too confident, way too smooth--just like you-know-who.
I wondered if I was being fair to him. A part of me had been flattered, had wanted to believe he was nice, had wanted to oblige him. But I was halfway uncomfortable with his forwardness, and something in his manner.
Did I want to give him my number, I wondered? No, I thought. Tell him you already have someone. Hurt his feelings, he'll get over it. But don't hurt yourself.
I thought I had learned my lesson from my experience with my first job, but writing about it (see a previous post, "The Movie-Cliche Rapist," and the next post, "Magical Superpowers," for more on the story and my views of intuition and the survival instinct) had really hammered the lesson home: I was to be guided by my intuition, not by my "niceness." If someone made me uncomfortable, I was to throw him away.
It's a hard habit to break, though, not being nice.
Later the clerk at the convenience store starting talking to me. He seemed nice, and did not make me at all uncomfortable. Yet somehow he seemed not confident or exciting enough. I thanked him and left.
See? I thought to myself. I told you my intuition was magic!
You're too picky, my inner critic said. You can't expect everyone to be like Ben*. Not even Ben is like Ben anymore.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I thought. I'm an introvert, I don't like dates. To my inner critic, it sounded like a lame excuse, but I knew I didn't want to risk it being otherwise. I guess when you're in love, all you see are rapists and idiots.
*Ben is the Christian boy I have not seen in a long time but still (sometimes) have feelings for. Please see some previous posts, "Crushing On A Christian, Part 1 of 2" and "Crushing On A Christian, Part 2 of 2."
Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Thursday, July 24, 2014
Wisdom From My Elders
When you are a kid, especially a teenager, advice comes from everywhere. Because they think they're doing me a favor, I tend to be polite and assure them that I will certainly take their wisdom to heart. I consider every idea respectfully, but whether I end up ultimately heeding their advice is a different matter entirely. I guess I'm at the age where I know everything.
Though I'm now in my twenties, it still happens occasionally, at least with my family. These aren't all from my family, but they're the ones that are most memorable. Most of them, interestingly enough, are cautions not to do things.
One of my mother's cousins was getting married, after years of living "in sin" with her man. During a trip with my grandparents, we were discussing going to the wedding.
"I wonder why she would do that," my mom remarked. "She's been living with him for years already."
"I don't know," I shrugged.
"I'll tell you why, Baby," my grandfather said proudly ("Baby" is my nickname with him; I'm the only granddaughter). "It's because she's living with him without being married, and it's not right, and she's going to get saved, and God will forgive her."
"Oh." I had never been that certain when I was a Christian; it has always seemed so easy for him to believe. "I think my mom meant, why would she want to for herself? What would be her reason?" It was the only thing I could think of to say, but I knew that in my family, the phrase, "God can change their heart" is uttered a lot. (It sounds like mind control to me, and it always applies to someone else.)
One of my mother's friends once rolled her eyes at her husband, turned to me and said, "Never marry a man."
My mom laughed. "Yeah, go lesbo," she said.
"You should marry the baby," the friend continued, without sarcasm. She was referring to her own baby, the one whose diapers I often changed. "You'll both die around the same time." (I was twelve at the time.)
That idea left me speechless. I held my tongue, to prevent myself from saying, "Ewwww," and making an ugly face.
During an especially cold period last winter, I expressed concern for a cat I have who stays outside and never wants to come in. My grandfather reassured me, "See, Baby, when God made all the animals, He made them with fur and feathers to keep warm, but people are supposed to be smart enough to keep themselves warm."
As it was over the phone, I smiled to myself. Though my family does not even know I'm an atheist, some seem to think that my parents and I are "lost" because we don't go to church. I wondered if he was witnessing to me.
I saw a flaw in his logic. "But sometimes they aren't?" I answered.
He laughed. "Yeah, sometimes they aren't!"
During a casual conversation with my parents, a friend of the family suddenly turned to me and said, very seriously, "Don't do meth."
"Uh...okay," I said, trying not to laugh in embarrassment.
"Seriously," he said. "Don't do meth. You're going to be out at a party, and other people will be doing it, and you just gotta say no. Don't do meth."
I nodded. "Okay. I promise."
Even at that young age (maybe fifteen), I had known a methamphetamine addict, and had seen firsthand the paranoia, the delusions, and the filthy conditions this person had lived in. Even stranger, the family friend knew that I knew this person. Though I appreciated his good intentions, they still amused me.
When I was about thirteen, my mother and I met one of her old church friends during a shopping trip. She liked to talk, especially about "what God was doing in her life."
When she had to leave, she hugged me and said, "Don't you leave the Lord for nothin', 'cause if you do, He's going to find a way to get you back."
"Yeah, and when He does, it's often painful!" my mother laughed.
I was confused by that one, because I was a devout Christian at the time, constantly trying so very hard to get close to God and, as far as I could tell, had not said anything to indicate otherwise. In fact, that was what I most feared at the time: losing my salvation or "leaving the Lord."
But apparently the devil uses reverse psychology, because ten years later I am now an atheist. I wouldn't say, though, that I have "left the Lord." It's more like He wouldn't return my phone calls.
(In an interesting twist to all of these, the word count for this article, other than this footnote, came to exactly 777 words. I'm told that that's the opposite of the Beast's number.)
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Though I'm now in my twenties, it still happens occasionally, at least with my family. These aren't all from my family, but they're the ones that are most memorable. Most of them, interestingly enough, are cautions not to do things.
One of my mother's cousins was getting married, after years of living "in sin" with her man. During a trip with my grandparents, we were discussing going to the wedding.
"I wonder why she would do that," my mom remarked. "She's been living with him for years already."
"I don't know," I shrugged.
"I'll tell you why, Baby," my grandfather said proudly ("Baby" is my nickname with him; I'm the only granddaughter). "It's because she's living with him without being married, and it's not right, and she's going to get saved, and God will forgive her."
"Oh." I had never been that certain when I was a Christian; it has always seemed so easy for him to believe. "I think my mom meant, why would she want to for herself? What would be her reason?" It was the only thing I could think of to say, but I knew that in my family, the phrase, "God can change their heart" is uttered a lot. (It sounds like mind control to me, and it always applies to someone else.)
One of my mother's friends once rolled her eyes at her husband, turned to me and said, "Never marry a man."
My mom laughed. "Yeah, go lesbo," she said.
"You should marry the baby," the friend continued, without sarcasm. She was referring to her own baby, the one whose diapers I often changed. "You'll both die around the same time." (I was twelve at the time.)
That idea left me speechless. I held my tongue, to prevent myself from saying, "Ewwww," and making an ugly face.
During an especially cold period last winter, I expressed concern for a cat I have who stays outside and never wants to come in. My grandfather reassured me, "See, Baby, when God made all the animals, He made them with fur and feathers to keep warm, but people are supposed to be smart enough to keep themselves warm."
As it was over the phone, I smiled to myself. Though my family does not even know I'm an atheist, some seem to think that my parents and I are "lost" because we don't go to church. I wondered if he was witnessing to me.
I saw a flaw in his logic. "But sometimes they aren't?" I answered.
He laughed. "Yeah, sometimes they aren't!"
During a casual conversation with my parents, a friend of the family suddenly turned to me and said, very seriously, "Don't do meth."
"Uh...okay," I said, trying not to laugh in embarrassment.
"Seriously," he said. "Don't do meth. You're going to be out at a party, and other people will be doing it, and you just gotta say no. Don't do meth."
I nodded. "Okay. I promise."
Even at that young age (maybe fifteen), I had known a methamphetamine addict, and had seen firsthand the paranoia, the delusions, and the filthy conditions this person had lived in. Even stranger, the family friend knew that I knew this person. Though I appreciated his good intentions, they still amused me.
When I was about thirteen, my mother and I met one of her old church friends during a shopping trip. She liked to talk, especially about "what God was doing in her life."
When she had to leave, she hugged me and said, "Don't you leave the Lord for nothin', 'cause if you do, He's going to find a way to get you back."
"Yeah, and when He does, it's often painful!" my mother laughed.
I was confused by that one, because I was a devout Christian at the time, constantly trying so very hard to get close to God and, as far as I could tell, had not said anything to indicate otherwise. In fact, that was what I most feared at the time: losing my salvation or "leaving the Lord."
But apparently the devil uses reverse psychology, because ten years later I am now an atheist. I wouldn't say, though, that I have "left the Lord." It's more like He wouldn't return my phone calls.
(In an interesting twist to all of these, the word count for this article, other than this footnote, came to exactly 777 words. I'm told that that's the opposite of the Beast's number.)
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Crushing On A Christian, Part 2 of 2
Please see previous post, Crushing On A Christian, Part 1 of 2
I am in love with a devout Christian, that I will probably never be with. But that fact doesn't stop my heart from torturing itself.
I know that I "shouldn't" still feel this way about him. A million questions flood my mind, about my motives, my state of mind, his thinking, and what to do in the future--about him or another guy I may meet:
What is it about him that drives me crazy? It is simple lust? Do I secretly want to hoodwink his Christian parents, or perhaps set him free from the notion of purity? Is my idea of him even close to reality?
I guess I'll never know.
My feelings toward him range from anger and disgust to confusion, to sadness, to burning desire. I just can't make up my mind about how I feel about him. I sometimes feel like a bad feminist, a stupid woman, for letting a man drive me crazy like this. I have dreams occasionally of saying goodbye to him or trying sneak out with him past his parents' eyes.
Am I being silly? I often ask myself. Is he really who I think he is? It is so easy to idealize someone who is far away.
(Weirdly, this is how some Christians, like myself, in the past, seem to react to God. "I keep praying, but He's not answering. Do you think he doesn't like me? Did I do something wrong?" So I guess I've replaced God with my crush. I still wonder if the perfect person I see in my mind really exists.)
I also wonder what to do if I should meet someone else. Be with a guy because he is nice and it would be good for me, or hold out for someone else to sweep me off my feet, someone who may never come?
If I choose the "healthy" option (or "settle," as the case may be), am I short-changing someone who deserves more than half of my attention? And what if the feelings for the new man never come?
I talk to others, and sometimes pursue them, with the hope that I can fall as hard for someone else, but nothing seems to come of it. Am I too forward, I speculate, or can they somehow sense that I belong to someone else? Have I been holding something back?
Maybe this fall, I think. He has my number; maybe he'll call me this fall. Maybe his parents discourage it now.
But then I wonder, how long am I going to have to wait? How many milestones will have to pass before he becomes independent enough, if he is even interested in me at all? I don't know if his parents don't think I'm Christian enough, or discourage him from dating at this point, or even if he's just not interested anymore.
Maybe I'll meet someone else this fall, someone less religious--I don't go to Bible college, at least. But is my new guy going to regard me the same way, and do I even want to be romanticized like that? It seems that, good or bad, Ben has ruined me for anything else.
Nothing can make me feel more pathetic than feelings I can't control. Fuck it! I think to myself. This is how I feel. No changing it.
I try to move on. One can try to be as realistic as possible, but what do you do when a part of you refuses to accept reality?
And how can reality possibly compete with fantasy?
Every time I decide to forget him, I know I'm just going to remember later. I've made peace with this fact, somewhat. Perhaps someday I will forget him for good, or find somebody else to make me feel this way. But until then...
Why do people want so badly what they can never have?
Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I am in love with a devout Christian, that I will probably never be with. But that fact doesn't stop my heart from torturing itself.
I know that I "shouldn't" still feel this way about him. A million questions flood my mind, about my motives, my state of mind, his thinking, and what to do in the future--about him or another guy I may meet:
What is it about him that drives me crazy? It is simple lust? Do I secretly want to hoodwink his Christian parents, or perhaps set him free from the notion of purity? Is my idea of him even close to reality?
I guess I'll never know.
My feelings toward him range from anger and disgust to confusion, to sadness, to burning desire. I just can't make up my mind about how I feel about him. I sometimes feel like a bad feminist, a stupid woman, for letting a man drive me crazy like this. I have dreams occasionally of saying goodbye to him or trying sneak out with him past his parents' eyes.
Am I being silly? I often ask myself. Is he really who I think he is? It is so easy to idealize someone who is far away.
(Weirdly, this is how some Christians, like myself, in the past, seem to react to God. "I keep praying, but He's not answering. Do you think he doesn't like me? Did I do something wrong?" So I guess I've replaced God with my crush. I still wonder if the perfect person I see in my mind really exists.)
I also wonder what to do if I should meet someone else. Be with a guy because he is nice and it would be good for me, or hold out for someone else to sweep me off my feet, someone who may never come?
If I choose the "healthy" option (or "settle," as the case may be), am I short-changing someone who deserves more than half of my attention? And what if the feelings for the new man never come?
I talk to others, and sometimes pursue them, with the hope that I can fall as hard for someone else, but nothing seems to come of it. Am I too forward, I speculate, or can they somehow sense that I belong to someone else? Have I been holding something back?
Maybe this fall, I think. He has my number; maybe he'll call me this fall. Maybe his parents discourage it now.
But then I wonder, how long am I going to have to wait? How many milestones will have to pass before he becomes independent enough, if he is even interested in me at all? I don't know if his parents don't think I'm Christian enough, or discourage him from dating at this point, or even if he's just not interested anymore.
Maybe I'll meet someone else this fall, someone less religious--I don't go to Bible college, at least. But is my new guy going to regard me the same way, and do I even want to be romanticized like that? It seems that, good or bad, Ben has ruined me for anything else.
Nothing can make me feel more pathetic than feelings I can't control. Fuck it! I think to myself. This is how I feel. No changing it.
I try to move on. One can try to be as realistic as possible, but what do you do when a part of you refuses to accept reality?
And how can reality possibly compete with fantasy?
Every time I decide to forget him, I know I'm just going to remember later. I've made peace with this fact, somewhat. Perhaps someday I will forget him for good, or find somebody else to make me feel this way. But until then...
Why do people want so badly what they can never have?
Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Crushing On A Christian, Part 1 of 2
"Your pussy is a crucifix, my cock is like Christ..."
--Aldous Snow (Russell Brand), in the movie Get Him To The Greek.
Why do people want so badly what they can never have?
On an unrelated (and potentially embarrassing) note, I am in love with a devout Christian.
Perhaps there is a hell, after all.
I met him about six years ago, in church youth group. I'll call him Ben for the convenience of the story. He was always a handsome kid, with brown eyes like melted chocolate. But when he trimmed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, he was somehow...perfect. He had transformed overnight from a kid to a young man. He grew from roughly my height to a much taller six-foot-four.
I think he idealized me as much as I did him. He carried my bag to the car every night after church and "saved" me during games of freeze-tag played with the younger kids.
I didn't pursue him as much as I could have, because something told me that his parents were the type that didn't allow their children to be alone with the opposite sex. He was also a few years younger than me, and I had just turned eighteen at the time.
He once asked me if I would go on a date with him, in three years when he turned sixteen. I said yes, though the age difference would force me into painful chastity. It's now been about five years. Am I pathetic, I wonder, for still wanting that date?
I know that the age difference wouldn't be a big deal in ten years--or even a few. A shame that our timing was simply off.
I saw him again about six months ago. I was in a thrift shop, and heard someone say his name. A group of kids were talking nearby, and one mentioned, "We should get this for Ben." It can't be, I thought. I looked over, and saw a girl who looked familiar--his sister. I walked by and started looking through the same book bin she was, pretending not to notice her. She gasped as she recognized me.
We hugged, genuinely happy to see each other. I noted glumly that she wore a skirt with a matching jacket, while I was in jeans on a Sunday. I had obviously not just come from church. "Ben's here!" she said. "Hey, Ben!"
He looked different, his body more filled out. He now wore an old-fashioned newsboy cap, cradled perfectly in golden blond curls. The cap made him look like a doll, but I didn't care. There was a bit more maturity in those beautiful brown eyes. I wondered if he knew how fast my heart was beating at that moment.
He was standing at a slight distance, and said, "Hey!" and waved, over-casually. I smiled warmly and went to give him a hug. He did a weird little thing where he wove his body, said, "Whoooaaa!" and pretended to hug the air. He effectively avoided all physical contact with such an action. Just like a pure Christian boy.
"Oh, whatever!" I laughed, waving it off (though I didn't feel like waving it off). With his church friends, at least, he was much more aloof now.
We talked a little. He mentioned that this coming fall, he's going to a small Christian college in a nearby town. Christian college: another reason I will probably never have him. Though he has my number now, I have not heard from him.
I think I know how a relationship with him would go: Shameful, secretive sex, while publicly professing abstinence (if I even get sex), calling it "courting" instead of "dating," early marriage, maybe having to go to his church. I certainly wouldn't be able to be honest about my real beliefs, maybe not even to him.
None of this is what I want; none of this is me. I can let people assume, perhaps, but I can't lie about something as important as religious beliefs and my feelings towards the Christian god without making myself feel physically sick. I am not the good Christian girl that his parents would probably approve of, and this why we will probably never be together.
I often think, If things were different...But they aren't different. I am as sad to see religion have him as much as I would another girl.
I think it's a shame that somewhere out there is a pure Christian boy who doesn't know that he could be sexually active if he played his cards right.
For Part 2, click here.
Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
--Aldous Snow (Russell Brand), in the movie Get Him To The Greek.
Why do people want so badly what they can never have?
On an unrelated (and potentially embarrassing) note, I am in love with a devout Christian.
Perhaps there is a hell, after all.
I met him about six years ago, in church youth group. I'll call him Ben for the convenience of the story. He was always a handsome kid, with brown eyes like melted chocolate. But when he trimmed his shaggy brown hair out of his eyes, he was somehow...perfect. He had transformed overnight from a kid to a young man. He grew from roughly my height to a much taller six-foot-four.
I think he idealized me as much as I did him. He carried my bag to the car every night after church and "saved" me during games of freeze-tag played with the younger kids.
I didn't pursue him as much as I could have, because something told me that his parents were the type that didn't allow their children to be alone with the opposite sex. He was also a few years younger than me, and I had just turned eighteen at the time.
He once asked me if I would go on a date with him, in three years when he turned sixteen. I said yes, though the age difference would force me into painful chastity. It's now been about five years. Am I pathetic, I wonder, for still wanting that date?
I know that the age difference wouldn't be a big deal in ten years--or even a few. A shame that our timing was simply off.
I saw him again about six months ago. I was in a thrift shop, and heard someone say his name. A group of kids were talking nearby, and one mentioned, "We should get this for Ben." It can't be, I thought. I looked over, and saw a girl who looked familiar--his sister. I walked by and started looking through the same book bin she was, pretending not to notice her. She gasped as she recognized me.
We hugged, genuinely happy to see each other. I noted glumly that she wore a skirt with a matching jacket, while I was in jeans on a Sunday. I had obviously not just come from church. "Ben's here!" she said. "Hey, Ben!"
He looked different, his body more filled out. He now wore an old-fashioned newsboy cap, cradled perfectly in golden blond curls. The cap made him look like a doll, but I didn't care. There was a bit more maturity in those beautiful brown eyes. I wondered if he knew how fast my heart was beating at that moment.
He was standing at a slight distance, and said, "Hey!" and waved, over-casually. I smiled warmly and went to give him a hug. He did a weird little thing where he wove his body, said, "Whoooaaa!" and pretended to hug the air. He effectively avoided all physical contact with such an action. Just like a pure Christian boy.
"Oh, whatever!" I laughed, waving it off (though I didn't feel like waving it off). With his church friends, at least, he was much more aloof now.
We talked a little. He mentioned that this coming fall, he's going to a small Christian college in a nearby town. Christian college: another reason I will probably never have him. Though he has my number now, I have not heard from him.
I think I know how a relationship with him would go: Shameful, secretive sex, while publicly professing abstinence (if I even get sex), calling it "courting" instead of "dating," early marriage, maybe having to go to his church. I certainly wouldn't be able to be honest about my real beliefs, maybe not even to him.
None of this is what I want; none of this is me. I can let people assume, perhaps, but I can't lie about something as important as religious beliefs and my feelings towards the Christian god without making myself feel physically sick. I am not the good Christian girl that his parents would probably approve of, and this why we will probably never be together.
I often think, If things were different...But they aren't different. I am as sad to see religion have him as much as I would another girl.
I think it's a shame that somewhere out there is a pure Christian boy who doesn't know that he could be sexually active if he played his cards right.
For Part 2, click here.
Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Wednesday, July 16, 2014
The Movie-Cliche Rapist, Or How I Was Very Lucky
I can laugh at parts of this story now, at least a little, but the fact is, I was very lucky. This is one of the rare times in my life that makes me feel like someone or something was looking out for me, if nothing more than my intuition, though I'm not sure now that it was God.
My first job I got because a stranger recommended me.
He worked at my dad's office, and as he was around my age, my dad's boss and his wife were talking about me, trying to set us up. I think they mentioned that I was involved in martial arts at the time; unfortunately this figures in the story.
He once told my dad, "Tell your daughter that some friends and I are going to the coast for the weekend, and she's invited."
Outrageous, that I would go to the coast and party all weekend with people I had never met! And that he would dare tell my dad--my gun-toting, body-building dad! I laughed at this at the time, but now it gives me the creeps.
He worked part time at a vineyard near my house (he didn't know how near, thank god). The boss needed him to come and work more, but he couldn't, so he mentioned me. On the way to taekwondo, my dad and I swung by the place and talked to the owner. I was actually on the way to a "belt testing," to potentially be promoted, and so wore my impressive Leadership uniform. That may have also saved me.
My dad did most of the talking. I had misgivings about it, but thought it was because it was my first job. I agreed, partially not to disappoint my dad, to come to work the following Monday.
This place was isolated, in the country, the nearest house at least three hundred feet away, depending on where you were in the field. I didn't have my driver's license, and so was "stuck" there. This could have been very bad. I will never make this mistake again.
I met him briefly my first morning of work. He was cute, and I tried to put my nerves out of the way, knowing that I had social anxiety and an overactive imagination. I didn't get any "bad vibes" from the brief meeting that morning; he just seemed to like me without even meeting me, which was strange.
Later that day, my new boss had to take his cat to the vet. As I was working, I saw the kid's car pull up across the rows of grapes.
"Hey, are you thirsty? You know there's a place where you can fill your water bottle. I'll give you a ride there."
Strange boy's car! a paranoid voice in my head screamed. But I was thirsty, and I thought I was overreacting. I was always nervous meeting new people, especially boys.
We drove up to a house near the field, talking about my dad and his boss and various things I can't remember now. The house was empty, only used for the bathroom and filling bottles. We stood in the deserted kitchen, filling our bottles.
"They said you were cute, and I think they were right," he said.
I was a bit taken aback at his frankness. "Oh. Thank you. I think you're very brave for saying that."
"Well, I believe actions speak louder than words," he said in a tone that sounded like he was boasting.
"Um...what does that mean?"
(Maybe I should have seen this coming. I certainly am wary of this pickup line now.)
He pinched the front of my shirt, about two inches above my belly button, between his fingers, and leaned in towards me, his lips puckered. He was a bit shorter than me, so I just leaned back and I must have been out of his reach. I must have made quite a shocked face, because his expression went from suave confidence to "oh-shit-I-screwed-up" in no time flat.
"Oh," he said. "I guess you don't want a kiss."
"I just, um, I just met you," I muttered. I stared at him, wondering, Does he think we're in a movie?
A smooth operator--so smooth that he made the most awkward blunder I have ever seen.
I had been scared, when he had grabbed my shirt. I saw myself running through the rows of grapes, wondering if I could outrun him to the nearest neighbor for help--or if they would even be home. I saw myself screaming at first, then decided against it, for he would surely find me.
I think he knew what I was thinking. It was like an unspoken message between us: "Well, um, you seem nice, but I just thought, you know, that you were going to rape me. It's not you, it's me--well, no, it's you, because you were making a physical play for me that scared me a lot."
I was shaking. I started to laugh a bit, probably out of nerves more than anything. He apologized, and said he thought I saved kissing for special boyfriends. "Maybe someday," he said.
"Someday?" I asked, amused, but not laughing with him.
"Well, maybe."
He explained, "I'm really into action."
I told him awkwardly that just because I was a legal adult, didn't mean that I did adult stuff (I was really into purity back then, which is why I had to have the courage to say no, though I didn't want to "hurt anyone's feelings").
We drove back to the vineyard. He still seemed embarrassed. We talked a little. In between other, normal-sounding things, he mentioned that he had had to come up from another state because he had got in some trouble with the law.
"I've really mellowed," he said. "I'm not a good boy yet, but I'm better than I was."
There it was again, Does he think we're in a movie? If I hadn't fallen for the smooth operator, did he really think I would fall for the "bad boy?"
He said I seemed shy. I said I wasn't shy; I didn't like being called shy. He insisted; I was silent.
"So you probably don't like to go to parties and smoke pot?"
"No..." At least not the parties he was talking about. If smoking pot was what he admitted to doing, I wondered, what was he not telling me? "I'm afraid there might be, um, something in the drinks."
"Oh," he nodded, seeming to feel as awkward as me. "Well, I think you're a goody-two-shoes. You just like, sneak out and ride your horse, right?"
Is he really saying this? I wondered. Does he honestly think we're in a movie?
"I'm not a goody-two-shoes," I said. I didn't even need to "sneak out" to ride my horse.
"No, I think you are," he said.
"Well...there's something to be said for that," I demurred. I did not want to go to a party with him; I didn't even like him at this point. I was not going to be manipulated--like in the movies.
He asked if I wanted to go with him to the nearby deli and get a sandwich. What kind of work ethic is this? I wondered. I said I had to work.
He brought me a sandwich. When he returned, my mom was there. This was her day off, and she also brought me lunch. (Yes, of course I told her everything. We laughed at him while he was gone. My mom was there--another point in my favor.)
My mom stayed a while, until quitting time. She had nothing better to do, and so sat in the car and read a book.
Now here is the really scary part: A few years later, I saw his picture in the newspaper. Apparently he was wanted for coercing underage girls into having sex with him--by threat of force.
Taekwondo saved me. All I had to do was talk about it. I was extremely lucky. My weird facial expression, the doctrine of purity, my mother being there--all of these factors worked in my favor as well.
I felt like a fool, and a little guilty, at the time for thinking that a "nice guy" (albeit a horny one, a player looking for another score), would rape or assault me. I didn't learn until years later that my "paranoid" reaction, my fear, was correct. I had never met a rapist or predator before, or player for that matter. I didn't know what they were like--or rather, what it felt like to meet one.
No more working in the country for me; at least not without a car, and not for or with strangers. No more getting in cars with "nice" guys. No more acting like I like someone before I know him. No more going along with the typical "meeting a guy" script.
And most importantly, I no longer feel bad about all-but-calling a "nice guy" or player a rapist.
I now only work in town, with a car--and with a can of mace in my pocket.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
My first job I got because a stranger recommended me.
He worked at my dad's office, and as he was around my age, my dad's boss and his wife were talking about me, trying to set us up. I think they mentioned that I was involved in martial arts at the time; unfortunately this figures in the story.
He once told my dad, "Tell your daughter that some friends and I are going to the coast for the weekend, and she's invited."
Outrageous, that I would go to the coast and party all weekend with people I had never met! And that he would dare tell my dad--my gun-toting, body-building dad! I laughed at this at the time, but now it gives me the creeps.
He worked part time at a vineyard near my house (he didn't know how near, thank god). The boss needed him to come and work more, but he couldn't, so he mentioned me. On the way to taekwondo, my dad and I swung by the place and talked to the owner. I was actually on the way to a "belt testing," to potentially be promoted, and so wore my impressive Leadership uniform. That may have also saved me.
My dad did most of the talking. I had misgivings about it, but thought it was because it was my first job. I agreed, partially not to disappoint my dad, to come to work the following Monday.
This place was isolated, in the country, the nearest house at least three hundred feet away, depending on where you were in the field. I didn't have my driver's license, and so was "stuck" there. This could have been very bad. I will never make this mistake again.
I met him briefly my first morning of work. He was cute, and I tried to put my nerves out of the way, knowing that I had social anxiety and an overactive imagination. I didn't get any "bad vibes" from the brief meeting that morning; he just seemed to like me without even meeting me, which was strange.
Later that day, my new boss had to take his cat to the vet. As I was working, I saw the kid's car pull up across the rows of grapes.
"Hey, are you thirsty? You know there's a place where you can fill your water bottle. I'll give you a ride there."
Strange boy's car! a paranoid voice in my head screamed. But I was thirsty, and I thought I was overreacting. I was always nervous meeting new people, especially boys.
We drove up to a house near the field, talking about my dad and his boss and various things I can't remember now. The house was empty, only used for the bathroom and filling bottles. We stood in the deserted kitchen, filling our bottles.
"They said you were cute, and I think they were right," he said.
I was a bit taken aback at his frankness. "Oh. Thank you. I think you're very brave for saying that."
"Well, I believe actions speak louder than words," he said in a tone that sounded like he was boasting.
"Um...what does that mean?"
(Maybe I should have seen this coming. I certainly am wary of this pickup line now.)
He pinched the front of my shirt, about two inches above my belly button, between his fingers, and leaned in towards me, his lips puckered. He was a bit shorter than me, so I just leaned back and I must have been out of his reach. I must have made quite a shocked face, because his expression went from suave confidence to "oh-shit-I-screwed-up" in no time flat.
"Oh," he said. "I guess you don't want a kiss."
"I just, um, I just met you," I muttered. I stared at him, wondering, Does he think we're in a movie?
A smooth operator--so smooth that he made the most awkward blunder I have ever seen.
I had been scared, when he had grabbed my shirt. I saw myself running through the rows of grapes, wondering if I could outrun him to the nearest neighbor for help--or if they would even be home. I saw myself screaming at first, then decided against it, for he would surely find me.
I think he knew what I was thinking. It was like an unspoken message between us: "Well, um, you seem nice, but I just thought, you know, that you were going to rape me. It's not you, it's me--well, no, it's you, because you were making a physical play for me that scared me a lot."
I was shaking. I started to laugh a bit, probably out of nerves more than anything. He apologized, and said he thought I saved kissing for special boyfriends. "Maybe someday," he said.
"Someday?" I asked, amused, but not laughing with him.
"Well, maybe."
He explained, "I'm really into action."
I told him awkwardly that just because I was a legal adult, didn't mean that I did adult stuff (I was really into purity back then, which is why I had to have the courage to say no, though I didn't want to "hurt anyone's feelings").
We drove back to the vineyard. He still seemed embarrassed. We talked a little. In between other, normal-sounding things, he mentioned that he had had to come up from another state because he had got in some trouble with the law.
"I've really mellowed," he said. "I'm not a good boy yet, but I'm better than I was."
There it was again, Does he think we're in a movie? If I hadn't fallen for the smooth operator, did he really think I would fall for the "bad boy?"
He said I seemed shy. I said I wasn't shy; I didn't like being called shy. He insisted; I was silent.
"So you probably don't like to go to parties and smoke pot?"
"No..." At least not the parties he was talking about. If smoking pot was what he admitted to doing, I wondered, what was he not telling me? "I'm afraid there might be, um, something in the drinks."
"Oh," he nodded, seeming to feel as awkward as me. "Well, I think you're a goody-two-shoes. You just like, sneak out and ride your horse, right?"
Is he really saying this? I wondered. Does he honestly think we're in a movie?
"I'm not a goody-two-shoes," I said. I didn't even need to "sneak out" to ride my horse.
"No, I think you are," he said.
"Well...there's something to be said for that," I demurred. I did not want to go to a party with him; I didn't even like him at this point. I was not going to be manipulated--like in the movies.
He asked if I wanted to go with him to the nearby deli and get a sandwich. What kind of work ethic is this? I wondered. I said I had to work.
He brought me a sandwich. When he returned, my mom was there. This was her day off, and she also brought me lunch. (Yes, of course I told her everything. We laughed at him while he was gone. My mom was there--another point in my favor.)
My mom stayed a while, until quitting time. She had nothing better to do, and so sat in the car and read a book.
Now here is the really scary part: A few years later, I saw his picture in the newspaper. Apparently he was wanted for coercing underage girls into having sex with him--by threat of force.
Taekwondo saved me. All I had to do was talk about it. I was extremely lucky. My weird facial expression, the doctrine of purity, my mother being there--all of these factors worked in my favor as well.
I felt like a fool, and a little guilty, at the time for thinking that a "nice guy" (albeit a horny one, a player looking for another score), would rape or assault me. I didn't learn until years later that my "paranoid" reaction, my fear, was correct. I had never met a rapist or predator before, or player for that matter. I didn't know what they were like--or rather, what it felt like to meet one.
No more working in the country for me; at least not without a car, and not for or with strangers. No more getting in cars with "nice" guys. No more acting like I like someone before I know him. No more going along with the typical "meeting a guy" script.
And most importantly, I no longer feel bad about all-but-calling a "nice guy" or player a rapist.
I now only work in town, with a car--and with a can of mace in my pocket.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Wednesday, July 9, 2014
How To Stay Afloat, Part 3 of 3
This is Part Three of a series of articles about how not to "drown" financially and emotionally. I believe that, since an atheist cannot retreat into the dubious solution of buying lottery tickets and praying, that this topic is very relevant and hopefully some people will be helped by what I've learned.
I have divided this article into three parts to keep it easy to read. Please see the previous two posts for additional tips.
7. Create more than you consume. There was a time that I thought almost all of my pleasure would come from acquiring money and things, and I was actually pretty miserable. The key is to find balance, what is right for you. It was only when my disposable income was severely reduced that I remembered I had loved to write when I couldn't buy as much. Writing, drawing, making crafts (from the supplies you already have), etc., are all cheap or free (or at least, can be), and give one a sense of fulfillment that consumption never can. It is even more fulfilling if others can also enjoy or admire your work.
Focus not on what you can get--focus on what you can create: stories, articles, crafts, or meeting goals like sales calls made or classified ads listed.
(I would personally recommend starting some kind of blog, even if it's not on the topic of religion or atheism, so that others can hopefully be helped by your experience. There is probably more to write about than you think. It will also give you more confidence and, interestingly enough, make you feel sexier. Better yet, start a blog and send me a link.)
8. "Shop" for free things. That's not to say that there is no place for entertainment in your life, or that such entertainment has to be expensive. My family still technically does not have a television subscription; we entertain ourselves with Youtube and watching episodes of our favorite shows online. Many libraries also lend ebooks or audiobooks over the computer to members. This is technically not shopping, and that's kind of the point.
Here is a link to a website where you can (legally) download free ebooks, as no one owns a copyright to any of them. Most of them are about a century or more old, but there are thousands, many of them very entertaining, and all of them are free and legal:
http://library2go.lib.overdrive.com/F3E36843-DEFB-4827-B2A8-FFED847A342E/10/50/en/ZRPublicDomainCollection.htm
(They even have a few books on religion and atheism. Try typing the words "atheist" and "atheism" into the search box right above the book titles. The works of Horatio Alger, though they are children's books, were also especially inspiring to me over the years. Yes, they are available at this site and can be easily searched for.)
But the most important thing of all to remember is...
9. Focus on what you can do, not what you can't. Remember what I said in Part One about the sense of helplessness being the real enemy. Make a list of possible sources of income or ways to save money, no matter how far-fetched they are. Even if they "aren't worth it," include them in the list. Some things require a great deal of effort at the beginning, then pay off later. Others are "too small" but slowly add up. Still others may not seem worth it at the time, but pay off later. Even ridiculous ideas may have a grain of truth to them.
The key is to increase your odds of success; even if it never pays off (which is actually pretty unlikely, that it will not pay off at all), you have gained valuable experience and the knowledge that you have tried your best and can be proud of that.
(Obviously, though, only take risks in which you can afford to lose. Don't spend all your grocery money on lottery tickets, for example.)
Difficult times in my life have taught me many things, but the main lesson I came away with is that God or someone else is not going to help me; I have to help myself. Action, any kind of action, is what is going to save you from depression and despair. Remember that you are much stronger and more resourceful than you think you are.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I have divided this article into three parts to keep it easy to read. Please see the previous two posts for additional tips.
7. Create more than you consume. There was a time that I thought almost all of my pleasure would come from acquiring money and things, and I was actually pretty miserable. The key is to find balance, what is right for you. It was only when my disposable income was severely reduced that I remembered I had loved to write when I couldn't buy as much. Writing, drawing, making crafts (from the supplies you already have), etc., are all cheap or free (or at least, can be), and give one a sense of fulfillment that consumption never can. It is even more fulfilling if others can also enjoy or admire your work.
Focus not on what you can get--focus on what you can create: stories, articles, crafts, or meeting goals like sales calls made or classified ads listed.
(I would personally recommend starting some kind of blog, even if it's not on the topic of religion or atheism, so that others can hopefully be helped by your experience. There is probably more to write about than you think. It will also give you more confidence and, interestingly enough, make you feel sexier. Better yet, start a blog and send me a link.)
8. "Shop" for free things. That's not to say that there is no place for entertainment in your life, or that such entertainment has to be expensive. My family still technically does not have a television subscription; we entertain ourselves with Youtube and watching episodes of our favorite shows online. Many libraries also lend ebooks or audiobooks over the computer to members. This is technically not shopping, and that's kind of the point.
Here is a link to a website where you can (legally) download free ebooks, as no one owns a copyright to any of them. Most of them are about a century or more old, but there are thousands, many of them very entertaining, and all of them are free and legal:
http://library2go.lib.overdrive.com/F3E36843-DEFB-4827-B2A8-FFED847A342E/10/50/en/ZRPublicDomainCollection.htm
(They even have a few books on religion and atheism. Try typing the words "atheist" and "atheism" into the search box right above the book titles. The works of Horatio Alger, though they are children's books, were also especially inspiring to me over the years. Yes, they are available at this site and can be easily searched for.)
But the most important thing of all to remember is...
9. Focus on what you can do, not what you can't. Remember what I said in Part One about the sense of helplessness being the real enemy. Make a list of possible sources of income or ways to save money, no matter how far-fetched they are. Even if they "aren't worth it," include them in the list. Some things require a great deal of effort at the beginning, then pay off later. Others are "too small" but slowly add up. Still others may not seem worth it at the time, but pay off later. Even ridiculous ideas may have a grain of truth to them.
The key is to increase your odds of success; even if it never pays off (which is actually pretty unlikely, that it will not pay off at all), you have gained valuable experience and the knowledge that you have tried your best and can be proud of that.
(Obviously, though, only take risks in which you can afford to lose. Don't spend all your grocery money on lottery tickets, for example.)
Difficult times in my life have taught me many things, but the main lesson I came away with is that God or someone else is not going to help me; I have to help myself. Action, any kind of action, is what is going to save you from depression and despair. Remember that you are much stronger and more resourceful than you think you are.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
How To Stay Afloat, Part 2 of 3
There was a time when my family was near "drowning" financially, and this is what I have learned from that time and since. Such circumstances can easily shatter one's faith, and one may sink into despair if that faith is not replaced by action. Here is what to do if prayer doesn't work.
Because I like to keep my articles small and easy to read, this is part two of a series of three articles, with three suggestions each. Please see my previous article, How To Stay Afloat, Part 1 of 3.
4. Buy one "big" thing instead of five little things. In other words, don't try to substitute some cheap imitation for what you really want; it will end up making you miserable and costing you more money in the long run. If you want something nice to put in your home, don't console yourself at the dollar store. Go without shopping for a while, and put the savings towards something that will make you really happy. If you don't know what that something is, congratulations! That's actually a good thing. That means that you will have more time to save for what you really want, and you will know it when the time comes...if you can learn to say no to the less important items.
5. Make a list of everything you could possibly want, and number each item according to importance. You may be able to afford it, after all. This will protect you from buying things that are "just there" at the moment. If you combine this step with listing and looking over your expenses, you may find that the little things can be given up in order to afford what really makes you happy.
And if you can afford it at the moment--without causing yourself or your family hardship--please don't deny yourself. You will be miserable and probably surrounded with "little" things you only half like.
Note also that your true wants may surprise you. I have found that one of the greatest joys that money can buy is the sense of taking good care of my animals. If I spend less on my own pleasures, I can afford more worm medicine, flea treatments, tuna, saving for vet appointments, etc. This makes me feel much better than one more thing or piece of clothing ever would. If I had children, I imagine I would feel the same way towards them. If I had no children or pets, I might try buying food or supplies for an animal or homeless shelter.
6. Apply the rule of "immediate consumption only." This is what finally saved me from the cycle of buying things because I was afraid I could not later. If I couldn't see myself using, enjoying or wearing it right away, I passed it up. This will also protect you from "bargains" you don't need.
Please see the previous post, Part One, if you haven't already, and stay tuned for Part Three.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Because I like to keep my articles small and easy to read, this is part two of a series of three articles, with three suggestions each. Please see my previous article, How To Stay Afloat, Part 1 of 3.
4. Buy one "big" thing instead of five little things. In other words, don't try to substitute some cheap imitation for what you really want; it will end up making you miserable and costing you more money in the long run. If you want something nice to put in your home, don't console yourself at the dollar store. Go without shopping for a while, and put the savings towards something that will make you really happy. If you don't know what that something is, congratulations! That's actually a good thing. That means that you will have more time to save for what you really want, and you will know it when the time comes...if you can learn to say no to the less important items.
5. Make a list of everything you could possibly want, and number each item according to importance. You may be able to afford it, after all. This will protect you from buying things that are "just there" at the moment. If you combine this step with listing and looking over your expenses, you may find that the little things can be given up in order to afford what really makes you happy.
And if you can afford it at the moment--without causing yourself or your family hardship--please don't deny yourself. You will be miserable and probably surrounded with "little" things you only half like.
Note also that your true wants may surprise you. I have found that one of the greatest joys that money can buy is the sense of taking good care of my animals. If I spend less on my own pleasures, I can afford more worm medicine, flea treatments, tuna, saving for vet appointments, etc. This makes me feel much better than one more thing or piece of clothing ever would. If I had children, I imagine I would feel the same way towards them. If I had no children or pets, I might try buying food or supplies for an animal or homeless shelter.
6. Apply the rule of "immediate consumption only." This is what finally saved me from the cycle of buying things because I was afraid I could not later. If I couldn't see myself using, enjoying or wearing it right away, I passed it up. This will also protect you from "bargains" you don't need.
Please see the previous post, Part One, if you haven't already, and stay tuned for Part Three.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
How To Stay Afloat, Part 1 of 3
At first glance it might seem that I'm straying a bit off topic, but I don't believe that to be the case at all. My atheism affects and is affected by every other part of my life, and I know that I can't be the only one for whom this is true. I share what I have learned because the world needs happy, healthy atheists.
There was a time years ago that my family was in a bit of financial trouble. During this time, I overheard my mother say to my father, "We are drowning." I will never forget the helplessness I felt at that time, and that was the worst thing about it. The sense of helplessness, or desperation, I have since learned is the real enemy at times like this. That is why these principles that I have learned have been so important to getting out of that desperate place, both financially and emotionally. Here is how to get yourself unstuck, and retain some of your happiness and sanity at the same time, whether you are going through hard times or not:
(Because I like to keep my articles small and easy to read, I have divided this subject into three parts, with three steps each.)
1. Pay yourself first, even if it's only a tiny amount. Even having an extra two dollars in the bank will make you feel much better, trust me. You can save a set percentage of each paycheck, garage sale, etc, or vary the amounts as you can afford it. Even a sliver of the total will make you feel better and get you in the habit. Remember that you can always take it back out if there is an emergency.
2. Adopt the attitude that "nothing is sacred." This one I got from my mother. This is the attitude that she adopted long ago, and it is the first thing she tells others to do if they ask for financial advice. What it means is, everything is available to be sacrificed to keep one's home and family intact. At one point we had no living room furniture because she had sold it to pay our bills. Sentimental value didn't matter either; the people--and pets--in our family were more important than things. I know this is also something we would have to fall back upon, if it ever came to that.
(This would also apply to receiving government or other assistance, filing for bankruptcy, etc, if one must.)
3. Don't "stock up" on pleasure. So many things that I have bought, I realize now, were bought in case I couldn't afford them later. Most of these things I don't even use, even years later. I now know that it is better to set aside a certain amount of money for things that are simply wants.
(I have also found that, when it comes to food and candy, there will come a point when you will get tired of it eventually, at least for a while. No matter how delicious it tastes now, this rule still applies. I have five boxes of peppermint taffy in my freezer, bought cheap right after Christmas last year, to prove it. I still like peppermint taffy...sometimes.)
Stay tuned for parts two and three.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
There was a time years ago that my family was in a bit of financial trouble. During this time, I overheard my mother say to my father, "We are drowning." I will never forget the helplessness I felt at that time, and that was the worst thing about it. The sense of helplessness, or desperation, I have since learned is the real enemy at times like this. That is why these principles that I have learned have been so important to getting out of that desperate place, both financially and emotionally. Here is how to get yourself unstuck, and retain some of your happiness and sanity at the same time, whether you are going through hard times or not:
(Because I like to keep my articles small and easy to read, I have divided this subject into three parts, with three steps each.)
1. Pay yourself first, even if it's only a tiny amount. Even having an extra two dollars in the bank will make you feel much better, trust me. You can save a set percentage of each paycheck, garage sale, etc, or vary the amounts as you can afford it. Even a sliver of the total will make you feel better and get you in the habit. Remember that you can always take it back out if there is an emergency.
2. Adopt the attitude that "nothing is sacred." This one I got from my mother. This is the attitude that she adopted long ago, and it is the first thing she tells others to do if they ask for financial advice. What it means is, everything is available to be sacrificed to keep one's home and family intact. At one point we had no living room furniture because she had sold it to pay our bills. Sentimental value didn't matter either; the people--and pets--in our family were more important than things. I know this is also something we would have to fall back upon, if it ever came to that.
(This would also apply to receiving government or other assistance, filing for bankruptcy, etc, if one must.)
3. Don't "stock up" on pleasure. So many things that I have bought, I realize now, were bought in case I couldn't afford them later. Most of these things I don't even use, even years later. I now know that it is better to set aside a certain amount of money for things that are simply wants.
(I have also found that, when it comes to food and candy, there will come a point when you will get tired of it eventually, at least for a while. No matter how delicious it tastes now, this rule still applies. I have five boxes of peppermint taffy in my freezer, bought cheap right after Christmas last year, to prove it. I still like peppermint taffy...sometimes.)
Stay tuned for parts two and three.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Wednesday, July 2, 2014
Who Really Has No Hope?
Please also see a previous post, "The Funeral."
I once saw an acquaintance of mine that I hadn't seen in a long time.
"How have you been?" I asked. "What's going on with you?"
"I had to go to a funeral this weekend," he said.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."
"No, I'm a Christian! A funeral is a celebration!" he said.
"Oh...okay," I said, a bit taken aback at his intensity. I wasn't quite comfortable saying, "Congratulations."
In spite of scripture to the contrary, I think it is much harder for Christians (and other religious people) to lose a loved one than for non-believers. I have never met a Christian who has not agonized over the fate of a friend or family member's soul, even if this person had been a believer. Even those who don't believe in hell usually did so at one time.
The one (theoretical) comfort I can take in times like this is that the person or animal in question is out of pain or cannot be hurt any more. The last thing someone who is grieving should have to face is the question of whether their loved ones are forever tortured (by the god they themselves serve, no less) or whether a loving god created beloved pets without souls.
My grandfather lost a nephew a few years ago, one who had lived hard and probably never set foot in a church (at least not for services). Predictably he expressed concern over his nephew's soul, when my grandmother shared something that had happened to her: "I was praying this morning, and I said, 'Lord, I wonder where he is,' and I heard his mother laugh. I don't think she would be laughing if he weren't with her."
With her--while she was laughing. What a wonderful image; and I had always heard that my grandfather had considered his sister's smoking a sin.
In spite of this apparent development, most of my family still believes in a literal hell. Some of them seem to think also that my parents and I are going there, because we lost our salvation through not going to church. Other than going to church and effectively living a lie, I don't know how to make things easier for them. I don't think they can "choose" to change their beliefs any more than I can change mine by choice alone.
I'm not too fond of a religion that causes people anguish and makes their lives harder (which, I believe, is most religions). I know from experience the terrible things that belief in hell does to people, and since I can't change my family's minds, I am at least grateful to be out of that dark, fearful place in my life.
Which begs the obvious question: Who really has no hope?
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
I once saw an acquaintance of mine that I hadn't seen in a long time.
"How have you been?" I asked. "What's going on with you?"
"I had to go to a funeral this weekend," he said.
"Oh, I'm so sorry to hear that."
"No, I'm a Christian! A funeral is a celebration!" he said.
"Oh...okay," I said, a bit taken aback at his intensity. I wasn't quite comfortable saying, "Congratulations."
In spite of scripture to the contrary, I think it is much harder for Christians (and other religious people) to lose a loved one than for non-believers. I have never met a Christian who has not agonized over the fate of a friend or family member's soul, even if this person had been a believer. Even those who don't believe in hell usually did so at one time.
The one (theoretical) comfort I can take in times like this is that the person or animal in question is out of pain or cannot be hurt any more. The last thing someone who is grieving should have to face is the question of whether their loved ones are forever tortured (by the god they themselves serve, no less) or whether a loving god created beloved pets without souls.
My grandfather lost a nephew a few years ago, one who had lived hard and probably never set foot in a church (at least not for services). Predictably he expressed concern over his nephew's soul, when my grandmother shared something that had happened to her: "I was praying this morning, and I said, 'Lord, I wonder where he is,' and I heard his mother laugh. I don't think she would be laughing if he weren't with her."
With her--while she was laughing. What a wonderful image; and I had always heard that my grandfather had considered his sister's smoking a sin.
In spite of this apparent development, most of my family still believes in a literal hell. Some of them seem to think also that my parents and I are going there, because we lost our salvation through not going to church. Other than going to church and effectively living a lie, I don't know how to make things easier for them. I don't think they can "choose" to change their beliefs any more than I can change mine by choice alone.
I'm not too fond of a religion that causes people anguish and makes their lives harder (which, I believe, is most religions). I know from experience the terrible things that belief in hell does to people, and since I can't change my family's minds, I am at least grateful to be out of that dark, fearful place in my life.
Which begs the obvious question: Who really has no hope?
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Tuesday, July 1, 2014
It Was An Omen
On the way down to a particularly important family gathering recently, I spotted a van with the number "666" written in red on the side. Nobody else in the car saw it.
It's probably nothing, I reasoned. It was on the other side of the freeway, and I may have imagined the number on the side.
But a slightly less rational voice in my head screamed, It was the Van of the Beast and you're the only one who saw it! You're going to ride that van to hell someday! (Hell is obviously up north somewhere.)
But that's ridiculous, the reasonable part of me thought. It's just some prank. A kid did this to his van to be tough.
The horror movie begins now! You will be dead in six hours, six minutes, and six seconds.
About a mile later, I saw something else that caught my attention. "Dad! Pull over! There's a huge bag of dog food by the side of the road!" I said excitedly.
He refused. "It's trash," he said. "There's no way a full bag of dog food would have blown out."
But I was still curious, so I pressed the issue. "What if someone had to go up a hill?"
Both my parents burst out laughing at me, full-on belly laughs for about a full minute. "They had to go up this hill?" my dad asked, pointing to a long stretch of perfectly flat road.
I smiled myself, half embarrassed, wondering if I was really qualified to have an opinion about God.
With such an omen as the brain-cell-zapping Van Of The Damned hanging over me, we arrived at the picnic, and...nothing bad happened. I was a bit disappointed, actually, after such an exciting start to the day.
I listened to one of my mother's relatives, a smoker, describe her gluten-free diet. "Mostly salads and fresh vegetables," she said. I walked past her on the back porch later, trying not to inhale the smoke.
Another relation "said the blessing" before everyone ate. I stood there with my eyes open, the only one (yeah, I looked). He asked God to "bless this food to every part of our bodies," and that struck me as strange.
As I started to eat, I thought, Bless this wiener to my wiener*. Bless these buns to my buns. Bless this potato salad to...I got nothing.
In the end, everything was fine. I saw the devil's Beastmobile (proof the antichrist isn't as rich as I thought), I brought home a bag of leftover pickles, and I lived longer than six hours. I wasn't fooled, though; I knew the truth, that the devil had some kind of equipment in that van and had tricked my parents into refusing God's gift of free dog food.
*I am a female and technically don't have one, but all things are possible with God.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
It's probably nothing, I reasoned. It was on the other side of the freeway, and I may have imagined the number on the side.
But a slightly less rational voice in my head screamed, It was the Van of the Beast and you're the only one who saw it! You're going to ride that van to hell someday! (Hell is obviously up north somewhere.)
But that's ridiculous, the reasonable part of me thought. It's just some prank. A kid did this to his van to be tough.
The horror movie begins now! You will be dead in six hours, six minutes, and six seconds.
About a mile later, I saw something else that caught my attention. "Dad! Pull over! There's a huge bag of dog food by the side of the road!" I said excitedly.
He refused. "It's trash," he said. "There's no way a full bag of dog food would have blown out."
But I was still curious, so I pressed the issue. "What if someone had to go up a hill?"
Both my parents burst out laughing at me, full-on belly laughs for about a full minute. "They had to go up this hill?" my dad asked, pointing to a long stretch of perfectly flat road.
I smiled myself, half embarrassed, wondering if I was really qualified to have an opinion about God.
With such an omen as the brain-cell-zapping Van Of The Damned hanging over me, we arrived at the picnic, and...nothing bad happened. I was a bit disappointed, actually, after such an exciting start to the day.
I listened to one of my mother's relatives, a smoker, describe her gluten-free diet. "Mostly salads and fresh vegetables," she said. I walked past her on the back porch later, trying not to inhale the smoke.
Another relation "said the blessing" before everyone ate. I stood there with my eyes open, the only one (yeah, I looked). He asked God to "bless this food to every part of our bodies," and that struck me as strange.
As I started to eat, I thought, Bless this wiener to my wiener*. Bless these buns to my buns. Bless this potato salad to...I got nothing.
In the end, everything was fine. I saw the devil's Beastmobile (proof the antichrist isn't as rich as I thought), I brought home a bag of leftover pickles, and I lived longer than six hours. I wasn't fooled, though; I knew the truth, that the devil had some kind of equipment in that van and had tricked my parents into refusing God's gift of free dog food.
*I am a female and technically don't have one, but all things are possible with God.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)