Saturday, February 27, 2016

I Met The Mythical Gay From My Childhood

When I was a child, my dad ran a company owned by the most conservative conspiracy-theorist couple you would probably ever meet. The company was run out of their large home, and as the couple was nice to me and their place in the country was very pleasant, I went with my dad to work as often as I could.
I saw their huge walk-in freezer; ate all of the raspberries and grapes out of the wife's garden (she didn't seem to mind); consumed her generously-offered protein shakes and "healthy" cookies with exotic and funny-tasting ingredients; took a small boat out on their huge pond (complete with a "miniature" hydroelectric dam, because self-sufficiency was everything, when the economy totally collapsed and the government came for their guns--seriously); and played with their daughter-in-law and granddaughter.
I loved it when their granddaughter, who was my age, came to visit while I was there. She was so fascinating to me: Asian (I live in a very white area), a big-city girl; someone who went to public school; she watched Sailor Moon and played amazing and exotic music on her own boombox (I still smile whenever I hear Abba's "Dancing Queen"). Looking back now, I believe I may have had a crush on her, as much as a little girl who knows almost nothing of lesbianism could get a crush. She was cool.
I knew all about that family, from hearing my mom and dad discussing them at home. I knew that they had four sons, whom I will call Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John (frankly, I'm surprised those weren't their real names). I knew that Matthew was the one who helped run the company, with my dad; that Luke and John both lived far away from their parents; and that Mark was an atheist--and, even more scandalous, that he was gay!
I was the little girl who, in first grade in the very conservative Christian school, made a pact with my best friend at the time, that, if we grew up like the boys who married boys, and the girls who married girls, we would marry each other. Looking back now, I'm not sure how I didn't realize I was bisexual sooner than age twenty-three.
But I knew, by the time I was nine or ten, that gay was bad. I wondered what Mark looked like, and what he wore. I found it morbidly fascinating, as all "bad" things are. I never met him, to my recollection. But I wondered how hard it was, for this nice older couple, to have a son like him. I knew that the father was an angry old man, though he was always nice to me, when he was alive. But I was still being raised to think that being gay was very bad (though it was mostly my school, and my mother's views have changed along with mine).
Then, about fifteen years later (a few months ago), I joined a Facebook group for survivors of fundamentalism, and I loved reading people's stories of escape. One day, I saw a story from, coincidentally, a "Mark Johnson." He ended his short introduction with, "I'm now gay and an atheist, haha!"
This group was for people across the U.S.; surely it couldn't be the Mark Johnson? I looked at his profile picture, and he looked a lot like his dad! Then I discovered that he lived in the city that I had heard a few of the Johnson boys lived in.
"Where are you from?" I asked him. "I think I might know you, or at least know of you."
He named a tiny town, near me, in my own state. But I knew that that was not accurate; it was actually a rural area about ten miles north of this town! And I knew this, because I had been to his house!
"My dad worked for your dad!" I explained, giving him my dad's name. "Your parents were John Sr. and Shirley, weren't they? I don't suppose we've met; I would have been a little girl at the time."
He had not met me, he thought, but had met my dad a few times. "But to be honest, I mostly stayed away from my father," he added.
"I am so sorry to hear that," I answered, "But, well...I don't blame you. I can see John Sr. being...hard to get alone with."
"He was a gun-loving rightwing Christian zealot," he answered frankly.
"Yep--I've heard stories!"
He liked that comment, and a few days later, sent me a friend request. My life had turned around 180 degrees.
He's sometimes angry (though at least for good reasons), but considering John Sr.'s anger, he's a bright ray of happy sunshine by comparison. I think anyone who trolls Franklin Graham's Facebook page for fun is kind of a nut, but at least he shares my very penile sense of humor. He hates people and loves animals, a lot like me.
He once shared a link about the Oregon terrorists being arrested, and asked, "But where will people send all the dildoes?"
"I'm sure they'll auction them off," a female friend of his replied.
"I want the real thing, damn it!" he answered.
"I don't like what the real thing's attached to!" she remarked. I was glad I was subscribed to this wonderful comedy gold.
He also once asked Facebook in general, "What exactly is the 'gay lifestyle'? Orgies and cocktails all day?"
I knew he'd been Graham-ing again, from that one. He says from his experience Graham-ing that evangelical women, especially, are "bitches."
"Aren't orgies and cock-tails the same thing?" I asked. (Though I suppose cock-tales are what one tells after the orgies.)
When he liked my comment, I knew I had made the absolute right choice in accepting his friend request. He shares my sense of humor almost exactly.
I think it's really too bad that the only single gay man over fifty I know is a devout Christian and a country boy, as I have no one for either of them (though my other friend is a universalist, so he could theoretically be with any guy, because in his belief system they'll become a Christian eventually, anyway). I often wonder what these two would be like together, though, because they're wrong for each other in every way. It sounds like a great comedy.
I don't know if I believe in fate or God or something, but it sure is strange, that I became friends with him this way, after originally thinking of him and other LGBT people as such a fascinatingly scary species--almost mythical. I like having this connection to my past, too, especially because he was also the very first gay person I had ever heard about, at least in real life. And now he's just one of my many gay and lesbian friends.
It's weird how some things work out.

Thank God I Lost My Faith

A lot of gay Christians talk about their years-long struggles with themselves, and how they beg God to change them, but it does nothing. I had a similar experience, long before I knew I was bisexual, except that my experience involved the struggle to get close to God, and not feeling close at all.
Have you ever had the experience of trying to tackle a very difficult project, and finally, you feel so frustrated, that you just give up for good? Now imagine if you are afraid to give up, or even to ease up on your efforts, because you're afraid that you will burn in hell for eternity if you do!
I continued at that same level of frustration (and constant stress!) for years, and the struggle to get close to God and to please him continued literally every second that I wasn't distracted or sleeping. And I thought it was all my fault, that I didn't consistently feel close to God, because God could never be wrong, and it was blasphemy to criticize him or be even a little upset with him.
Later I realized that some Christians thought you could get mad at God, and not be sinning, but it always seemed that it had to end on a positive note; you always had to "come back" to God, or else it was being bitter and sinning. So it was less than useless, pretending to be "over" something when you weren't.
I was either constantly failing to think Christian thoughts, in my own mind, or else trying to make up for them with Christian thoughts. I read my bible and prayed even when I was tired, and tired of it, but the most difficult, and stressful, part was trying to be in constant communication with God, and being painfully aware that God was watching when any sexual, angry, or blasphemous thoughts popped into my head, seemingly of their own volition. I couldn't relax, and had so much trouble getting to sleep, because I had to be constantly vigilant.
I finally got so emotionally numb that I just couldn't do any of it anymore. My faith was "broken," like the bruised reed that was not supposed to be broken. My misery and stress in this life finally overcame my terror of the next one, the stress was so great.
And the worst part was that I still had the great fear of hell, of not being a real Christian, and I still had the feeling that it was all my fault that I couldn't get close to God. And, even worse, it was all my fault that I couldn't be a Christian, and it was all my fault that I would go to hell.

But I see people in my family, and sometimes my life, who never, to my knowledge, went through all that. It doesn't seem easy for them, but they seem to be cramming their feelings down, putting on a happy smile, going to church, and judging all of the people that they're told to judge. And I think they have an easier time doing this than I did, because they didn't go through other things that I went through. My family raised the neighbor's baby, and when I was fifteen, we went through the father's custody battle along with him. I was so terrified that the baby would go to his neglectful, meth-addicted mother. And there were stories in the newspaper, at that time, of mother's boyfriends molesting, abusing, and even killing babies and small children. She had a lot of boyfriends, unsavory characters all.
I'm not exactly sure what combination of things led to my faith being broken, though. And I wonder, if I hadn't gone through all that, how I would be now? Would I still be homophobic? Would I know that I was bisexual? Would I know, and not like myself? Would I still be trying, so, so hard, and ruining my health and my mental health, and my life, because of it?
I would be so unhappy and depressed, if I was still my thirteen-year-old self. And I wouldn't even be allowed to acknowledge that I was unhappy, miserable, and depressed. I grieve for what I went through, and I am still recovering from it all, emotionally and physically, but I wonder if I would be worse off today, if I hadn't gone through that.
I remember an acquaintance, Ruth, who is twenty years old and almost exactly like I was, at thirteen. I sense her ambivalence, that she's torn between two worlds, but I distance myself from her, because it's too painful to see it, what I used to be. And for all I know, she could come through this time in her life even more homophobic and anti-equality, and I don't want to be around or be friends with someone like that, no matter how "nice" the oppressors are. It would only make me miserable, and life's much too short.
If there was one thing that would have made my life easier, back then, it would have been not trying at all to be "good." I spent so much energy trying to be "good": a "good" Christian, "good" daughter, "good" kid. I was scared to death of being "bad," and since one little thought could be a sin, I was "bad" constantly. That really does a number on your self-esteem, and your life in general. I was depressed, and couldn't see my life ever getting any better. I didn't like myself, either. Not one little bit; I couldn't stand myself.
When I learned to love myself, it wasn't because I was a child of God or something, it was in spite of the damage of the church's teachings. And they certainly didn't intend to inflict that kind of damage; they were "kind," "gentle," "loving" and all of the other self-congratulatory cliches. There were a few years where I had to just purge all mention of religion or Christianity from my life, and ignore it as much as I could. I'm glad I did, too. I desperately needed a long break from it.
I've learned so much over the years, and I wouldn't trade what I know now for anything. I learned to trust myself, where before I had been so focused on my relationship with God, that I had no relationship with myself. At first, I had been totally lost for how to fill my hours, my thoughts, and my life, if God was gone from it. I didn't know how to function, with all of that stress suddenly gone. But I knew I couldn't bear to do anything "Christian" ever again, even if I had such fear of hell. My misery in this life was greater, though the fear and self-hatred were still very much there.
I learned what kind of music I really liked, not having to worry about always listening to Christian music. I learned how to fill my spare hours in ways that I liked. I learned to cuss, which was fucking awesome! The biggest shock was my mind being seemingly empty, though, after constant prayer and vigilance every second. I literally didn't know how to think for myself! :)
But I learned, and I like my life now. I like myself, now.
I don't know if I would be so well-off today, if all of that hadn't happened to me. I'm still recovering from everything I've been through, but I'm so grateful that I'm here. I can't imagine how miserable my life would still be, in so many ways, if I hadn't lost my faith.
Maybe losing my faith was a gift from God. It certainly is a blessing, of some sort, even if I become a devout Christian again. (Which I don't think is likely, because I'm not putting any effort into being "devout" ever again! I already paid my dues, and I'm not fucking up my one guaranteed life for a theoretical afterlife!)
Maybe my life would be better, in some ways, if I had not been through such painful experiences. But, though I would not go through it all again, I shudder to think what would have happened if I had had the energy to keep trying to be a Christian. 

Pastor Assclown Is NOT My High Priest!

I recently unfriended someone on Facebook, whom I had gone to school with since first grade. He is now some kind of pastor-intern at a local church, and has a wife and newborn, and so he thinks he knows everything. I'll call him Pastor Assclown, because it's unfortunately not inaccurate.
Pastor Assclown said absolutely nothing about all of the pro-LGBT memes and links I shared, for a few months, then he said he absolutely had to say something, when I shared an article by an affirming Baptist pastor. In other words, he was the big fat hero, bravely defending the faith from...people who want to be good Christians and have a relationship with God.
A lot of things were said, and I would rather not revisit most of it, but a couple of things stood out to me. He said he didn't care what unbelievers did (Yay for marriage equality, I guess?...No, not likely...), but that it bothered him when believers believed this way. "I assume you call yourself a believer?" he asked me.
"We went to the same Christian school," I replied, "I don't 'call myself' a believer, I AM one!"
I didn't feel like I was lying to him, either, even though I wouldn't fit his definition of a Christian, for several reasons, not the least of which involves calling him Pastor Assclown (it's cathartic, and makes the thought of him easier to deal with, plus it's accurate). But I'm just as "Christian" as he is, just as close to God (if God is real), just as likely to be right. I will NEVER let anyone tell me what I am, or what I can and can't be!
He mentioned that some of the things we think we want, don't bring us lasting joy. I told him the truth: That some of the most joyful and loving people I knew were gay and lesbian Christians, in loving same-sex marriages.
Then one of them showed up in the conversation! I magically summoned him, somehow!
He was the one who eventually checked up on me, privately, to see if I was upset by the "pastor" who's a year younger than me. I was so touched by the thoughtfulness of this. I remember thinking that his husband was a very lucky man.
Assclown said that he missed my kind friend and his family in church.
"Then fellowship with us!" I replied, exasperated. "YOU are the one trying to exclude US, not the other way around!"
Then he went on some extremely condescending tangent straight out of the Typical Preacher's Handbook, about how as his daughter grew up, there would be times that he would have to say no to her, and even spank her (yep, spanking). I was alternating between getting angry at his arrogance, and laughing at him, thinking, "You have a wife and child--why do I feel like I've grown up, and you haven't?!"
His tangent was not cool, in my book. And since my kind friend had joined the conversation, I was now part of a team--it was us. "We are NOT wayward children, that have to be disciplined or spanked by the church--we ARE the church!" I roared.
I may not know exactly what I am or what I believe, but I don't need help figuring it out from people who don't accept me as I am, thank you very much. I'm bisexual, and bi-religion; I can argue as either a Christian or an atheist, and feel like one in the moment--and I don't think the two categories are opposites or exclusive of one another, either. I can be both at the same time. And I am, even if I only choose to reveal one side of me.
Pastor Assclown actually said, at one point, "I don't know where people get the notion that we're not supposed to judge other Christians, anyway."
I knew I had this in the bag, right then. Paul, who is used so much to justify judgment and condemnation, was now my friend.
"Who are you to judge another man's servant? To his own master he stands or falls," I quoted, then added my favorite part of that verse, "And they will stand, for the Lord is able to make them stand."
"Context is everything," he objected, "It was talking about eating certain foods."
"No, look closer!" I answered, "It also talks about thinking certain days are more holy than others, etc. So it gives examples, but is meant to apply as a more general principle. Besides, since when do you care about context? You didn't care that Paul was talking about pedophilia and idolatry!"
I didn't hear from him after that. Good fucking riddance, Assclown! Go away and never come back!
I may not know for sure if God is real, but I do know this: Just because you believe in something, does not mean that you know jack shit about it. Just because you believe in God, doesn't make you an expert on God. I do not need his permission for anything, especially for being a Christian or having a relationship with God. Assclown is NOT my high priest, standing between me and God. No one is. And no one ever will be.

Keeping Up With The Christians

 My grandfather talks about how "poor" they were when he was a kid, though my mother says that she learned from another relative that they were actually rather rich farmers, before moving from Arkansas to California. Whatever the case, my grandfather worked in the local wood mill for almost fifty years, while supporting a family of six, with only a sixth-grade education. I'm very proud of him for that fact. But even though he had a very good union job, my mother and her siblings always heard him speak of how "poor" they were, and how they "couldn't afford that." (Whatever "that" happened to be.) I talked recently of how almost everyone in my extended family has bought a brand-new, upper-middle-price-range car, and how most of them are on their second or third one.
My Uncle 'Phobe once got a job with the local school district, with good benefits, while complaining to my mom, "I'm just a janitor!" He had looked down on the janitors at his high school, so his self-esteem was affected when he took that relatively lucrative position.
One aunt and uncle went crazy for Thomas Kincaid paintings, when he was a big deal. Those fuckers were expensive! And they had three or four, at least, in ornate light-up frames. (Thomas Kincaid "paintings" were mostly a scam, too, paint thrown over prints.) Their house has always had top-of-the-line everything, and if possible, top-of-the-line Christian everything. It was almost as if they had something to prove, financially and otherwise. I was always fascinated by their house, but so afraid I would break something, when I was child. Their house still looks like an "inspirational" Christian bookstore. "Aren't you glad Christians live here?" my mom snarked to me once, nodding towards the two-foot cross on their stoop.
My mother grew up in the same environment of deprivation that her siblings did, and yet she has totally different financial values than them. I can't help feeling that they're trying to get away from my grandfather's "poorness," like it was a shameful thing.
My grandmother grew up actually poor, as far as I can tell. She had to have a new sports car, about twenty years ago, when her two sisters got new cars, and she had to have a new car about two years ago, when everyone else in the family seemed to get new cars. She has also always loved to shop, a lot of shopping, ever since I could remember. (Though I'm very grateful now that she makes my grandfather get out of the house every day and run errands with her!)
My cousin Blue-Butt (he ate blue birthday cake as a baby and shitted out a Smurf) once dated a young lady whose family was rather wealthy. My grandmother saw the girl's mom's car and exclaimed to me, "Ooh! Her family has money!" in a rather odd voice, a mixture of envy and mocking. She pointed out the expensive tires and rims to me, in particular. I also noticed that, when BB started dating this girl, my aunt, BB's mom, started looking for and bought a nice new car.
Why is being "poor," or even poor, such a shameful thing? Why would people sadly run up tens of thousands of dollars in debt, just to prove that they're not poor, or not poor anymore? What kinds of characteristics do we ascribe to those who have more than us, who are well off--especially so that we try to emulate them and sometimes even fit in with their crowd?
Why must we pretend, to them, that we've always been like them? Are they perceived to be particularly good friends, particularly warm-hearted, especially witty? Why do we want these people, in particular, for our friends? Not that they are bad people, necessarily, but--why these people? Why are they sometimes perceived to be more worthwhile to be around and emulate, just because of their privilege?
I understand the feeling of wanting to be accepted, of wanting to be as privileged as someone else, but I believe we must ask ourselves these questions.
After all, if for some reason we are not accepted by higher socioeconomic classes than our own, it doesn't necessarily reflect badly on our character. How does having more money or privilege mean that one is a better person (one that we wish to become), or mean that they are a great friend, or that they are a great judge of character?
And how does having nice things make one feel financially secure, especially if they have to make themselves financially insecure to do it? How does having nice things mean that you are worthy of nice things? No one can get everything they deserve, after all.
I'm not saying it's bad to have nice things. But I do think it's bad to have nice things, and not examine exactly why we want them. And I especially think it's bad for people to try to get into an in-crowd, without examining why they want to be around those people in the first place.
My in-crowd was the board of directors for the local PFLAG (Parents, Family, and Friends of Lesbians And Gays). I got in, even though I felt like I was bluffing my way through it (I told myself I WAS worthy of it, and there was no reason I couldn't be on that board!). And then, when I went to the first meeting, I sat at the same table as people I admired--the African-American lady who taught the LGBTQ-ally workshop I had attended (bucking the stereotype that black people are homophobic); the only out teacher at a tiny local high school, who had had to divorce his wife and start all over again at midlife, to be honest with himself; a man who had helped to start the first Queer student group at his southern college, way back in the sixties, and who had had rocks thrown at him and his friends for it; the ultra-modest, feminist, outspoken Christian who was eager to help me start my atheist group at my community college; among others. And we were all planning how we were going to change the world! I loved it! It was amazing!
I can't imagine ever having that totally amazing experience, one of the best in my life, if I had tried to make friends with them, or be like them, because of their cars, toys, clothes, houses, or jobs. Or even because they went to my church. And I didn't have to pretend, with them, either, because most of them had a closet in their past, anyway, and they didn't care where I came from.
That's how it should be. And that's how it will never be, if we admire people because we envy their possessions.

Get Rid Of Homophobes By Asking Them To Give Up Sex

I recently came across a Side B/Side X (gay Christians have to be completely chaste/gay Christians have to become straight--I'm not really sure what his beliefs are, he was all over the place in his conversation) idiot, who commented on a progressive Christian blog, and an argument ensued.
He said that gay Christians can only be celibate and single (but that they can't call themselves gay, for some reason--I have no idea what his reasoning was; I don't think he's using his head). So I asked him, if it was so easy, to swear on a bible that he would never have sex with his wife again. He tried to ignore that question, but I brought it up again and again, every time I responded to him.
"You won't do it, will you? You want a warm place to put it!" I accused him.
He said I was immature. But I persisted, saying that his penis was betraying him, and asking him if he thought urologists were immature for using that word. I asked him to give up sex, forever, probably two dozen times.
He said it was not all about sex. So I said, if it was not all about sex, then he should have no problem giving up sex. He said it wasn't all about me, so I asked him why he was arguing about my life. He said everyone had burdens, so I asked him if he thought LGBT people never have any pain in their lives (and told him that, in addition to life's pain, we get hurt from people like him every day). He told me to quit whining, so I said that I wasn't whining, I was calling out hypocrisy, and that he couldn't put a burden on me, then tell me to shut up when it was too heavy.
If he had said that she wanted sex, then I would have told him that he could always finger her, but not have an orgasm himself.
"Why would I give it up, when sex with my wife is not a sin?" he asked.
"Because that's what you're trying to get me to do," I answered. "If giving up sex, or the hope of sex, forever, is so easy, then you do it! Take your own medicine! Either put up or shut up! Giving up sex forever should be a small price to pay for saving a few souls. Show us how it's done!"
He tried to insist that God was saying that I should be alone, not him, but I countered that if God wanted to tell me something, He knew I was listening, and that so far (after about twenty years with God) God had not said anything. This guy insisted that God had said something, but that I was waiting for what I wanted to hear.
"Nope. God knows I'm sincere, even if you don't," I repeated. "I don't need your permission to be a Christian, or to have a relationship with God."
Then I asked him, again, to give up sex forever.
"You're losing. I'm out of here," he said.
"Losing? I exposed your hypocrisy for what it really is--you want sex!" I said, laughing to myself. Another "loving" homophobic guy who had gotten mixed up in the argument dropped out quietly, too; he obviously didn't want what I was serving to the Disqus commentor known only as Frank. (If you see "Frank" on Disqus making his usual Side B/X arguments, feel free to ask him about his sex life, and tell him AJ sent you!)
I learned something, from all this: Homophobes really want sex! And they will leave, if you insist enough times, that they give it up forever, as they are asking you to do. And they care more about their penises or their clitorises than they do about anyone else's soul.
They will try to ignore your challenge, but don't let them! Insist that they take their own medicine; go on the offensive! Every time you make a counterargument, add this tactic, and combine it with a prediction that they won't take it because they want to get off. Get a little insulting, at least as far as liking sex can be an insult. They know the burden they're trying to lay on you is very heavy, so they won't lift it themselves--and Jesus himself condemned this practice, twice.
If they try to say that they're not sinning, then say that giving up sex should be a small price to pay for saving souls. If it's so easy, let them do it!
If they try to blame God, tell them that God didn't tell you that, and that God knows you're listening, even if they don't. Repeat yourself a lot, if you must: "God knows I'm listening, even if you don't!" This phrase can be combined both with arguments against what the bible apparently says about gay people, and with arguments that the bible doesn't actually say that gays are bad. I went with the latter, because I think the bible we have now is nothing like the original manuscripts, but gay atheists can use the "God would know I'm listening" phrase too.
The point is, though, to repeat the challenge as often as necessary, until they finally leave. I'm not sure if it will ultimately convince them, but it will get them to go away, and hopefully reflect on just what they're asking of LGBT people.
And remember this: You DO NOT need someone else's permission to be a Christian, a Jew, a theist, an atheist, or anything else. Your journey is your own, and no one has the right to stand between you and God, or between you and your own life, or however you think of it. Remind them, if you like, that you don't need their permission. Repeat over and over, as many times as necessary, "God knows I'm listening, even if you don't," and, "Swear on a bible that you will never have sex again!"
There may be some Side B gay Christians, who really are celibate for life, but they are rare, and you can always say, again, that God has apparently not called you to that life, if they bother you. But celibacy is, most often, a celibacy-pusher's repellent; go out there and use it! :)

Monday, February 22, 2016

Minimalism And Buying: The Rule of Immediate Consumption

Right after the shooting at my school, Umpqua Community College, I coped with the shock of it by getting rid of an enormous amount of things, and adopting two new kittens. I would highly recommend The Kitten Method to anyone going through grief or shock. I still love my babies, Little Ernesto and Lulu Applesnoo.
I got rid of a lot of things, over the years, but I also learned how to know what I would love, and what I would get rid of right after buying it. One of the most useful tools I thought of is something I call the Rule of Immediate Consumption.
I ask myself if I would wear, eat, or use the item right this minute, if I could. If I didn't like the shade of nail polish enough to wear it that night, I probably wouldn't wear it eventually. If I didn't like that shirt enough to wear it the next time I went out, it was not going to be one of my favorites.
This made me feel good, to have a clear way to know what I really like, and what I only half-like. I saved a lot of money, too, and don't have too many half-liked clothes. It's always the stuff you half-like that causes the most problems, that you can't decide about.
I also try to remember my favorite shirt or coat, etc, and think whether I like the item as much as my current favorite. If I don't like it as much, then I won't choose to wear it, anyway, or I'll wear it but wish I was wearing something else.
I don't buy very many clothes anymore, and I don't feel deprived, either.

Sunday, February 21, 2016

Cars Are For Transportation, NOT Decoration!

I love my family, but they will tell you themselves that they are "really good Christians."
I'm not sure exactly how to explain why I think this is so problematic, even among people who aren't hypocrites or judgmental at all (and hypocrites never really KNOW that they're hypocrites, do they?). But I think it comes down to this: If it's just that "easy" to be a good person, then where's the humility, the awareness that you're not perfect? Not just lip service to the idea that you're not perfect, but actually seeing and acknowledging your flaws and mistakes, and trying to do better? If you think you're already on top of the mountain, then you're going to get lazy.
I'm not trying to guilt anyone, and I hate when pastors and others try to do that, but I wanted to point out that just because you go through the bible studies and programs at your church, or even just because you read the bible, doesn't mean that you got your life together. Or that you're making the right decisions for you--or your money, for that matter.
I once observed that it seems to me that, the more conservative the church, the more expensive the cars in the parking lot become!
Except for my mom, who shares my automotive values, one couple who share a brand-new car, and my younger cousins, who are just starting out in life and can only afford used cars (though I have a feeling that my cousin Red might be thrifty like me), every single person in my mother's family, other than me, has a car or truck that they bought new. Every. Single. Person. Most are on their second or third new vehicle, or looking for the next one.
That is insanity!
A car has one, and only one, purpose: To get you, your passengers, and your stuff from here to there, from there to here, safely and reliably. There is no way that a car can provide $12,000 or more worth of happiness; there's no way that that money could not be spent in more meaningful and fun ways!
(I'm not even talking about their new vehicle purchases, and I'm using a purposefully "low" figure; they tend to buy the upper-middle level of new car, in terms of price and "status." I would estimate about $35,000 or more is not uncommon, just judging from what these cars go for typically.)
A car is a tool, nothing more. You can feel good for MUCH less than $35,000 or more.
This is why I never want to go to an affluent church, if I were to attend church, because my old car sitting next to their new cars would just drive home the huge differences in personal values and lifestyle.
(My car is a hand-me-down from my mom, when she got her twenty-year-old van. She was so thrilled about that van, and still is, and she loved that car, too, for many years. It has history, that way, which is why I love it so much!)
I believe that the reason my family is so obsessed with new, shiny cars, is because of the church most of them attend. It is rather affluent, and has many of the important people in the community (or rather, people who think they're important in the community). My family fellowships "up," as far as wealth and so-called status, not across or even down. I don't fellowship with anyone, myself, but I certainly would never fellowship "up." (Though if the affirming churches recommended by my gay Christian friends had evening services, I might try them out, if they weren't too religious. Or too affluent--I don't approve of that lifestyle!)
When one person in the family got a new car, everyone else had to catch up, and did so within a year or two. They left my mother and me in the dust.
But our extended family is not that affluent. We can't afford to pay cash for these things, and if we did, it would be our life savings, or at least a very good part of it.
It makes me sick, how much money Americans waste. I am pretty silent and polite when being shown a relative's new car, or am told that they are looking for one, because I actually lose respect for people who have newer cars; I don't gain it. I especially lose respect for people who are wealthy enough to actually afford them; even if it's "small," compared to what you have, it's still a HUGE waste of money and resources! How many people could have been helped, with that money? How much garbage could be cleaned up from the oceans, with that money?
Luxury car companies should not even exist. I am not for only one option of car (like a communist), or saying that no new cars should be made, but I believe a price cap on cars would certainly help make them more practical, even if it's $100,000. Let the rich make their own customized improvements after purchasing, if they must be "better" than others, somehow.
At the very least, if one wants to have a "luxury" car, a vintage car would be much easier to maintain and replace parts in, and would keep its value, maybe even become more valuable over time. It might even be much cheaper than a new or late-model car. And you wouldn't be manipulated by the car companies and the culture to believe that a want is actually a need. Or manipulated by your church to think that something inducing that much debt is a "blessing." (My mom recalls that even at her old church--a relatively non-affluent one--when my parents were borrowing my paternal grandmother's car, which was relatively new at the time, everyone gathered around them in the parking lot and said, "Congratulations!" as if they had just a baby other than me!)
I believe frugality is a virtue, an all-too-rare virtue, nowadays. And I also believe that if you need a brand-new upper-middle level car to feel good, then you actually need to get therapy and self-help books, and pocket the difference. You would actually be able to afford a much more luxurious lifestyle, that way, or at least be free of a whole lot of debt.

Saturday, February 20, 2016

Why I Changed The Name of The Blog

I have not really posted since there was a shooting at my school, Umpqua Community College, last October. The shooting, and what happened afterwards, really changed things for me. I had trouble being there, after a few weeks, and just wanted to get out of there as quickly as possible after my classes. I don't go there anymore, after the fall term ended.
Right after the shooting, I wrote an article for the Friendly Atheist blog, about being an atheist at Umpqua, and how God very much was at that school (in spite of the shooting), if the religious culture of the school and surrounding area is any indication.
But the truth is, though I considered myself an atheist last spring, which is what the article refers to, I don't really know what I am, anymore.
I was a devout evangelical about twelve years ago; then ten years ago, when I was fifteen, my family was going through some very uncertain times, and I begged God to give me peace, until I was too numb to pray at all. For a long time, I literally had anxiety attacks if I had to listen to a fragment of a sermon, or if I saw a bible. If I realized that the book I had picked up was a Christian book, I threw it down as though it were on fire, and fled to a different part of the thrift shop. It was too overwhelming, to think about how hard I had tried to get close to God, for so many years, without any apparent, lasting success.
About maybe two years ago, I confronted a commenter on an atheist blog, thinking that he was sugarcoating the notion of hell. He turned out to be a universalist, to my surprise. I reluctantly said that MAYBE I was okay with God, IF hell didn't exist.
But I still hated religion, for what it did to women, children, and LGBTQ people. My new universalist friend, I thought, was either totally naive, or totally apathetic and not wanting to face reality and the terrible ways it affected people.
It turned out to be neither--he was gay himself!
I've met a lot of nice, gay Christians since then. I even joined the Gay Christian Network, to meet even more. They're some of my favorite people, and some of the nicest and funniest people I know.
I'm not sure what I am, myself. I don't think the atheists would have me, anymore, because I hope God is real, and good, or at least, that there's an afterlife. And I trust my own instincts and feelings, whatever they are, and not just "logic."
And I don't know if most Christians would have me, since I won't say, "I KNOW God is real, and I KNOW Jesus is God, and I KNOW Jesus was real!" Some people, I know, think that one has to be that certain, in order to have salvation, but I would feel like I was lying, maybe even lying to God--again, if God is real. I also can't be bothered to try to get close to God, anymore, because I've realized that, in my experience, I don't get anything from that effort. And no, I'm never going to give it "one more shot," because I've done that literally hundreds of times over the years. Life is too short, and as far as I know, I only get one. This hamster is tired of pressing the experimenter's bar, and getting nothing in return.
Terms like Buddhist and Wiccan definitely don't feel like they fit (they haven't even been in my experience), and I don't feel fully comfortable calling myself either a Christian or an atheist--though I can argue as either one, believe it or not, and feel like either one, in the moment! :-)
And I am NEVER going to let anyone tell me that I can't be a Christian because I'm bisexual, or because I'm pro-equality! I argued my way out of an old friendship on Facebook, recently, because he tried to do just that, and I don't regret it one bit! :-) One of my new, gay Christian friends even checked up on me, and we bonded over how awful and arrogant this person was, it was great! :)
So I changed the blog name from Atheist Journeys to AJ's Journeys, because I'm just AJ now. And that, I believe, is more than enough. :)