I was reading an article (I can't remember where) about the healing properties of herbs, recently, and the entry for onions (which I absolutely love, but only if the spiciness is cooked out) mentioned that they were sometimes used for "magical protection" from enemies.
I laughed aloud, thinking of the greatest "enemy" in my life, my Uncle 'Phobe. Onions are probably the only thing, other than maybe the Chicago Cubs (the "scumbags," I don't know why), that he hates even more than (his own) homosexuality! They would certainly protect me from him!
Ever since I was very small, I have heard the words, "I hate onions!" or "I can't believe they put onions in this! I told them not to!" literally every time I have been at a restaurant with him or one of my aunts. Every. Single. Time.
I honestly think that he and my aunt, his sister, are allergic to onions. But that doesn't excuse the way they act about them. They live in a pro-onion world, but are not understanding about it at all. The amount of disgust and vehemence they save for onions, and any mention of onions, is truly ugly. They consider it a great personal insult if the waiter forgets that they said, "No onions. I can't stand them!" in a busy, noisy restaurant while pressed for time. Uncle 'Phobe says that he can taste the onions in the pizza crust even after picking them out (and he makes sure you know what he thinks about that!).
My aunt actually sends food back, if it has onions in it, in a quite blunt way. I don't like eating with her, because I'm afraid they will think I am like her, and I don't want my food spit in. She once said, "No guacamole. It often has onions, and I hate onions. I can't stand them at all," rather quietly, in a noisy restaurant, while the waiter was busy and pressed for time. He obviously heard "No guacamole," while writing down her order, and got that right, but then she got offended when the food had onions, and sent it back.
I don't know where she stands on LGBT issues. She has been homophobic before, but more recently made rather neutral comments about my kind gay Christian friend ("I don't care if he's gay."), so I don't know. It might be different if she finds out that someone in her own family (me) is gay (or in my case, bisexual but "mostly" lesbian).
And ironically, my grandparents' house, the place where my Uncle 'Phobe lives, and where most family gatherings take place, is abundantly blessed with wild onions, growing all over the place! So I have a wonderful opportunity here.
I love digging them up, and I wonder if I can make a nice necklace out of them, daisy-chain style. Even if onions are not "magical," they would certainly act as a subconscious repellent, if those two saw me wearing onions, or subconsciously smelled it on my skin. They would not want to mess with me, probably even if I disagreed with them. I guess this herb really does provide protection!
And my uncle and my aunt are the two people in my family that I am most afraid of being both homophobic, and very angry. I have always been afraid of their anger, especially his, which almost got violent once, when I was small and called him the devil for physically picking on me.
What is also interesting, at least to me, is that my grandfather ("Papa"), loves to eat raw onions. I remember once I hugged him, when saying goodbye, and his breath stank. I turned my head away. He laughed and said, "You smell my onion?" and I laughed too.
And he is the one that I most fear grieving, and worrying, if I end up coming out in the course of disagreeing with someone. I can't live my life for him, or hide my wonderful, beautiful rainbow light under a bushel--but I hope if this happens, I have the chance to address any concerns he has and reassure him, somehow. And I also hope that he isn't "put off" by me, after seeing me in a certain (straight) light for so long.
Hopefully, the onion will repel whom it's supposed to--and make me palatable to the person or people it's supposed to.
I also am very fond of onions, particularly tiny wild onions, because of a fond memory of my late "heart-cat," Feezl. She was a very active cat, and she once found a dried wild onion, from my grandparent's house, that I had dropped on the floor. She started playing with it, attacking it as if it was a feather. Then she realized that I was sitting on my bed, and jumped up to come see me. I started petting her, then started laughing, because she had my Papa's onion breath! It was truly awful, and that was what made it so endearing. I love onions even more now.
I once "prayed" to Feezl, asking her to come home, when she was missing. The next day another cat, who had been missing for six days, returned, to our great surprise. She did not come back, herself; perhaps because she was dead. But it was as if she sent Sebastian home, even if she couldn't come back herself. Ever since then, I have been so grateful to her, and I have the feeling that she is watching out for me. She cared about me in life, a great deal, and it seems that that has not changed. Perhaps I can wear wild onions for my patron Saint, and she will look out for me as much as she can.
I went to a metaphysical bookstore, last week, with my mother, because I wanted to look at their herbs. I also bought some small, beautiful amethysts that I absolutely fell in love with. They are also my birthstone.
"I don't think they're magic," I remarked to my mom as we left, "but I love them so much!"
"If they make you happy, aren't they magic?" she asked.
I had never thought of it that way! If something makes me happy, or it has a "placebo effect," then isn't it "magic"? And if it has a placebo effect, then weren't those healing or psychological potentials within me all along? Perhaps some people are right, when they say that certain things "channel one's energy," or have energy, themselves.
Onions mean so much to me, in so many ways. If any herb is magical, for me, then this is it. With the onions, I can banish the bigots and bring on the blessings--and then eat them. :)
Saturday, April 30, 2016
Wednesday, April 20, 2016
Bisexuality: Why The "Percentage Question" Doesn't Bother Me
I am fascinated by LGBT experiences, and one thing I have repeatedly come across, which I thought was very strange, was the writings and views of other bisexuals, who said that they were hurt when people asked them, "How gay are you?" or referred to them as "half-gay, half-straight," etc.
This was quite confusing to me, since one of the first things I wondered, when first finding out about my sexuality, was "how gay" and "how straight" I was. I still wonder that, sometimes.
I thought that it was simply a potentially interesting conversation: "Oh, you're bi too? That's great! What are your percentages? I'm about 80% lesbian myself..."
I have found at least one commentor online who feels the same way, too. And she was just like me: 80-20 in favor of other women.
I have also heard one person say that they are "fully gay and fully straight" at the same time, which I suppose is true for me, but I also don't mind "dividing" myself up, either. After all, if one is half black and half white, for example, it still adds up to a whole person, however one's race is divided.
Some people think that this idea of percentages means that one only loves their boyfriend or girlfriend half as much (or whatever percentage) as a gay or straight person. But that's nonsense. To me, it means that, for someone who is "50-50," roughly half of the people they are attracted to are the opposite sex, and half are the same sex. Or, if you prefer, half of the people they like are of a gender expression different than them, and half are of the same type of gender expression.
Some people also say that this excludes trans and non-binary people from the equation. I disagree. I would date a trans person just as easily as I would date a cisgender person. It simply depends upon the person, their character, and whether they are pleasant to be around. Most people aren't, so I don't date most people. :)
I may change my mind on this if I get some real-world experience, but I can't imagine genitals mattering that much to me, so why would I care if the person I liked was trans or cis? Trans people may think of themselves in different categories than cis people--but for my purposes here, they simply go in the same categories cisgender people go in: male and female, depending on what they think of themselves as. For intersex people, it would be the same thing.
As for non-binary people, some of them have gender expressions that are more masculine/boyish, and some have gender expressions that are more "femme." So our theoretical "half-and-half" bisexual person would still be possibly attracted to them. They would either be of the 50% of "attractive" people who fit into the feminine category, or of the 50% of "attractive" people fitting into the masculine category. Or both categories at different times. Or, they would be rather gender-neutral, in which case they would fit into both categories, since they have typical characteristics of both sexes.
Remember, these categories are how our theoretical bisexual person would see people they are attracted to, not necessarily how these people would see themselves--since we all have different views of what we consider feminine and masculine, and those might affect whether we find others attractive or not.
I personally have never met a non-binary person I have been attracted to (or, I think, who has ever been attracted to me), though I'm not ruling out the possibility. But since they're relatively rare, it probably won't happen.
My personal statistics, as of this writing (it may change, as it has already "changed" over the last two years that I've known I was bisexual), are roughly 80% in favor of other girls, and 20% in favor of guys (by my rough estimate).
I came to this conclusion because I saw a lesbian on Youtube (Arielle Scarcella) say that most bisexuals tend to be 60-40 in favor of the opposite sex. I thought that the opposite was true for me; then I realized it was more, so I thought of 70-30 in favor of other girls. Then I realized that that was not accurate, either, so it became 80-20. I wondered if it was 90-10, but that seemed like too much. So I am four-fifths gay, and one-fifth straight. At this point in my life.
This is just a rough estimate of the people I find attractive and their respective sexes. Someday I may do a more scientific method, with an actual count (like when I tallied up all my favorite Marvel and DC characters, and there were more favorite DC characters, so I liked DC better), but I am comfortable with that number, for now. I believe it is mostly accurate.
It could also apply to how likely I think I am to find a girlfriend or boyfriend. Since thinking about this over the past few months, I see myself more with another girl than with a guy.
Funnily enough, my mom said the exact same thing to me, the other day. Out of the blue, as we were talking, she said, "I can just see you more with a woman, than with a man." I thought that was so interesting and amusing that she came to the same conclusion as me, since we are very close. Then she added, "Because men are dicks!" :)
Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe I would date a guy, if it was the right (very nice, non-dickish) guy, but that is a big maybe. The "maybe" is there, though, so I have to acknowledge it, though it has been hard to find guys that are "my type," whatever that is. Most people, in general, I am simply not attracted to, and of those that I am attracted to, it seems that much fewer are men.
If you want to find out your own "numbers," one thing that helps is to disregard all forms of erotica when "counting."
I once saw a fascinating comment online by someone who was a lesbian, but absolutely adored "yaoi" fan fiction. In other words, she loved reading stories where two male characters fell in love and made love, but would never consider getting involved romantically with a man, herself, in her own life.
This made so much sense to me, since I love to write about male-male couples (especially Buzz and Woody) and draw charcoal nudes of the male body--but the more I do that, it seems, the more I find myself thinking of women (though not necessarily in a sexual way), and wondering what it would be like to have a girlfriend.
It's as if my artist or writer side is drawn aesthetically to one sex, but the rest of me wants to balance it out by making me think warmly of women. My inner self wants balance in my life.
It could also be the fact that, though I love all couples, I think straight couples look and seem so strange, since they're not even matching. And it's such a turn-off, in a few different ways. It's just more aesthetically pleasing to me if couples are matching--even if I'm in the couple! :)
This was quite confusing to me, since one of the first things I wondered, when first finding out about my sexuality, was "how gay" and "how straight" I was. I still wonder that, sometimes.
I thought that it was simply a potentially interesting conversation: "Oh, you're bi too? That's great! What are your percentages? I'm about 80% lesbian myself..."
I have found at least one commentor online who feels the same way, too. And she was just like me: 80-20 in favor of other women.
I have also heard one person say that they are "fully gay and fully straight" at the same time, which I suppose is true for me, but I also don't mind "dividing" myself up, either. After all, if one is half black and half white, for example, it still adds up to a whole person, however one's race is divided.
Some people think that this idea of percentages means that one only loves their boyfriend or girlfriend half as much (or whatever percentage) as a gay or straight person. But that's nonsense. To me, it means that, for someone who is "50-50," roughly half of the people they are attracted to are the opposite sex, and half are the same sex. Or, if you prefer, half of the people they like are of a gender expression different than them, and half are of the same type of gender expression.
Some people also say that this excludes trans and non-binary people from the equation. I disagree. I would date a trans person just as easily as I would date a cisgender person. It simply depends upon the person, their character, and whether they are pleasant to be around. Most people aren't, so I don't date most people. :)
I may change my mind on this if I get some real-world experience, but I can't imagine genitals mattering that much to me, so why would I care if the person I liked was trans or cis? Trans people may think of themselves in different categories than cis people--but for my purposes here, they simply go in the same categories cisgender people go in: male and female, depending on what they think of themselves as. For intersex people, it would be the same thing.
As for non-binary people, some of them have gender expressions that are more masculine/boyish, and some have gender expressions that are more "femme." So our theoretical "half-and-half" bisexual person would still be possibly attracted to them. They would either be of the 50% of "attractive" people who fit into the feminine category, or of the 50% of "attractive" people fitting into the masculine category. Or both categories at different times. Or, they would be rather gender-neutral, in which case they would fit into both categories, since they have typical characteristics of both sexes.
Remember, these categories are how our theoretical bisexual person would see people they are attracted to, not necessarily how these people would see themselves--since we all have different views of what we consider feminine and masculine, and those might affect whether we find others attractive or not.
I personally have never met a non-binary person I have been attracted to (or, I think, who has ever been attracted to me), though I'm not ruling out the possibility. But since they're relatively rare, it probably won't happen.
My personal statistics, as of this writing (it may change, as it has already "changed" over the last two years that I've known I was bisexual), are roughly 80% in favor of other girls, and 20% in favor of guys (by my rough estimate).
I came to this conclusion because I saw a lesbian on Youtube (Arielle Scarcella) say that most bisexuals tend to be 60-40 in favor of the opposite sex. I thought that the opposite was true for me; then I realized it was more, so I thought of 70-30 in favor of other girls. Then I realized that that was not accurate, either, so it became 80-20. I wondered if it was 90-10, but that seemed like too much. So I am four-fifths gay, and one-fifth straight. At this point in my life.
This is just a rough estimate of the people I find attractive and their respective sexes. Someday I may do a more scientific method, with an actual count (like when I tallied up all my favorite Marvel and DC characters, and there were more favorite DC characters, so I liked DC better), but I am comfortable with that number, for now. I believe it is mostly accurate.
It could also apply to how likely I think I am to find a girlfriend or boyfriend. Since thinking about this over the past few months, I see myself more with another girl than with a guy.
Funnily enough, my mom said the exact same thing to me, the other day. Out of the blue, as we were talking, she said, "I can just see you more with a woman, than with a man." I thought that was so interesting and amusing that she came to the same conclusion as me, since we are very close. Then she added, "Because men are dicks!" :)
Maybe, maybe, maybe, maybe I would date a guy, if it was the right (very nice, non-dickish) guy, but that is a big maybe. The "maybe" is there, though, so I have to acknowledge it, though it has been hard to find guys that are "my type," whatever that is. Most people, in general, I am simply not attracted to, and of those that I am attracted to, it seems that much fewer are men.
If you want to find out your own "numbers," one thing that helps is to disregard all forms of erotica when "counting."
I once saw a fascinating comment online by someone who was a lesbian, but absolutely adored "yaoi" fan fiction. In other words, she loved reading stories where two male characters fell in love and made love, but would never consider getting involved romantically with a man, herself, in her own life.
This made so much sense to me, since I love to write about male-male couples (especially Buzz and Woody) and draw charcoal nudes of the male body--but the more I do that, it seems, the more I find myself thinking of women (though not necessarily in a sexual way), and wondering what it would be like to have a girlfriend.
It's as if my artist or writer side is drawn aesthetically to one sex, but the rest of me wants to balance it out by making me think warmly of women. My inner self wants balance in my life.
It could also be the fact that, though I love all couples, I think straight couples look and seem so strange, since they're not even matching. And it's such a turn-off, in a few different ways. It's just more aesthetically pleasing to me if couples are matching--even if I'm in the couple! :)
Tuesday, April 12, 2016
My Buzz And Woody Story
I've decided to start publishing the first chapters from the fanfiction story that I'm working on, "Buzz Vs. Woody," now, since I am almost finished writing it anyway. You can see my last post, also, if you want to see pictorial reenactments of what is ahead. I made them with my very own childhood toys!
I am publishing the individual chapters of the story on my Deviant Art page here, and I may publish them on my blog if people request that, though the story is rather long. I wanted to get a head start on publishing it, since my last story, about a transgender Mary Marvel, was very overwhelming to publish all at once.
This story takes place in the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command cartoon universe, though I include as many characters from the Toy Story movies as possible. With a sci-fi setting, they are easy to include. However, there was no older female humanoid character, that I could find, within either the cartoon or movie universes, so I borrowed one from another cartoon space universe. If anyone can tell me who President Winema Wazzo is, without looking it up, I will give them a virtual "Baldy" award--and there's your clue, comic book fans!
So Buzz Lightyear, in this story, is in the same universe as another very famous cartoon character, who also is in the comic books, just like Buzz is in the Toy Story comics. If you really must know whom, look up the name "Winema Wazzo," and then you will find out. :)
As soon as I finish this story, then I will resume my Accelerated Christian Education fan fiction, Pudge And Ronny, which ships two male characters from a conservative Christian comic strip. You can see it on the "Gay Christian Fanfiction" page at the top of this blog, or on my Deviant Art page here.
I am publishing the individual chapters of the story on my Deviant Art page here, and I may publish them on my blog if people request that, though the story is rather long. I wanted to get a head start on publishing it, since my last story, about a transgender Mary Marvel, was very overwhelming to publish all at once.
This story takes place in the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command cartoon universe, though I include as many characters from the Toy Story movies as possible. With a sci-fi setting, they are easy to include. However, there was no older female humanoid character, that I could find, within either the cartoon or movie universes, so I borrowed one from another cartoon space universe. If anyone can tell me who President Winema Wazzo is, without looking it up, I will give them a virtual "Baldy" award--and there's your clue, comic book fans!
So Buzz Lightyear, in this story, is in the same universe as another very famous cartoon character, who also is in the comic books, just like Buzz is in the Toy Story comics. If you really must know whom, look up the name "Winema Wazzo," and then you will find out. :)
As soon as I finish this story, then I will resume my Accelerated Christian Education fan fiction, Pudge And Ronny, which ships two male characters from a conservative Christian comic strip. You can see it on the "Gay Christian Fanfiction" page at the top of this blog, or on my Deviant Art page here.
Sunday, April 10, 2016
When God Takes Away Toy Story: An Unhappy Christian Childhood
When I was about twelve or thirteen, my mother and I started watching shows on the Christian networks about demons and demonic items. And we started getting scared that maybe some of our stuff was demonic, and letting in bad influences. So we got rid of a bunch of stuff, especially Disney stuff, since there was so much witchcraft in Disney films. It hurt--but we thought that's what God wanted.
My mom didn't make me get rid of all this stuff. I bought into all of this just as much as she did, and I was very desperate to have the close, joyful relationship with God that I had always wanted--that was promised to me, if I got born again and REALLY meant it! (Though I get saved, many times--so many times that I eventually sensed a pattern, and stopped because I knew exactly what would happen and was tired of the pattern.)
So I got rid of a lot of things and movies that I had really enjoyed. It was hard to do, but I had to give up everything for God. This world would be hard, if one was a Christian, but it beat the fiery alternative. And I had to love God more than anything, or I was shallow and selfish and not a "real" Christian. I didn't want to be any of those things, either. And I really did want to feel close to God and to please him.
I also got rid of some things that I didn't think were demonic, but that were "idols," I thought, because I loved them and thought about them too much. I got rid of my most precious possessions, my Toy Story toys. I was absolutely miserable--but if this didn't work, then nothing would! I had to find a way to be close to God, or I would never be happy in my relationship with him, and I might even "fall away" and go to hell.
About a year or two later, my mother and I couldn't believe how desperate we had been. And we had not felt any closer to God, for all of our efforts.
"I can't believe I got rid of so many things I loved," I shook my head, in much regret.
"Well, I hope you're not mad at me, but...I kept your Toy Story toys," she said.
I cannot begin to describe how relieved and thankful I was, then! I had them back! There were all of my old friends, who had been with me since I was very little. I even still have the Barney Bag that I have always stored them in!
I remember, before the madness of getting rid of them, that I had stayed up late literally every night, lying in my bed and thinking of new adventures for Woody and Buzz "in real life," where they were humans and not toys. They lived in the nineteenth century, and each had a family. Woody was the sheriff of the town, and they were neighbors. Woody also lived on a farm. He and Bo Peep were married, and he was always trying to catch Jesse James (not Jessie the cowgirl, who was his sister).
Toy Story was the first movie I went to see in the theaters, at five years old, and it literally had set the course for the rest of my life. I obsessed endlessly over two questions: When would Andy find out that his toys were alive? And when would they become real people?
Ninety percent of the time, my cousins and I played one of two games: Batman, and Toy Story. I always had to be Woody, even though I wasn't a boy. I invented such elaborate scenarios that I finally had to suggest that we play "non-stop," where we didn't stop to say something like "and pretend that Jessie James and Zurg were friends..." We never lasted more than one or two minutes like that, but it was fun.
Toy Story was what made me first start writing fiction, if only in my head. And writing fiction remains one of the great passions of my life, even now. It set the course for my entire life. I was still writing stories of Woody and Buzz in my head almost constantly, at twelve years old--and that's why I thought it was an idol and that God was surely displeased.
It's amazing to me now that something that brings me so much joy, could be considered a bad thing. If God is really worth knowing, wouldn't he want me to be happy? And if he doesn't want me to be so happy, is he really worth knowing?
I was taught to distrust my own gut and my own emotions, when they told me what I needed. I was afraid to trust myself and my own judgment, especially about right and wrong. But now I understand that I need to go back to the original source of my inspiration, if I'm going to be happy and fulfilled.
I have a theory on the Toy Story toys actually being haunted/reincarnated, which I published a week or two ago. There may be a flaw in that, because of the multiple Buzz Lightyears in the second movie, but in my opinion, the "second Buzz" had an entirely different personality from the "real" Buzz. So I'm still working on that one.
I also am writing a very long Toy Story fan fiction, about Woody and Buzz falling in love. There are no farms this time; it is set in the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command universe, and Woody is a wanted thief who kidnaps Buzz to sell him to his enemies--and he has made a lot of enemies, as a decorated Space Ranger!
It will be finished soon, and I will publish the chapters on my Deviant Art page--I'll let everyone know here when it is up. I usually like to write an entire story before publishing it, unlike with my other romance story, about the Accelerated Christian Education characters, Pudge and Ronny (that story is on the "Gay Christian Fanfiction" page at the top of the blog, or on my Deviant Art Page). I will continue writing the ACE story soon, too, though I am focusing on Toy Story for now. (I also have another story on my Deviant Art page, about Captain America's sidekick, Bucky, and his sister, a transgender Mary Marvel.)
This fascination with Toy Story may seem silly to a lot of people--but now that I can, I have to listen to my own gut and emotions, when they tell me what's right and wrong, or what I need in my life. There's nothing wrong with loving something, as I've discovered--and love is love, as Woody and Buzz will discover. I plan to include a lot of the other characters from the Toy Story movies, as well. A sci-fi setting, with all of its alien races, is perfect for such things. :)
And I'm especially glad that I still have my absolute, all-time favorite toys, because I've made them reenact some of the scenes in my upcoming story for you here:
My mom didn't make me get rid of all this stuff. I bought into all of this just as much as she did, and I was very desperate to have the close, joyful relationship with God that I had always wanted--that was promised to me, if I got born again and REALLY meant it! (Though I get saved, many times--so many times that I eventually sensed a pattern, and stopped because I knew exactly what would happen and was tired of the pattern.)
So I got rid of a lot of things and movies that I had really enjoyed. It was hard to do, but I had to give up everything for God. This world would be hard, if one was a Christian, but it beat the fiery alternative. And I had to love God more than anything, or I was shallow and selfish and not a "real" Christian. I didn't want to be any of those things, either. And I really did want to feel close to God and to please him.
I also got rid of some things that I didn't think were demonic, but that were "idols," I thought, because I loved them and thought about them too much. I got rid of my most precious possessions, my Toy Story toys. I was absolutely miserable--but if this didn't work, then nothing would! I had to find a way to be close to God, or I would never be happy in my relationship with him, and I might even "fall away" and go to hell.
About a year or two later, my mother and I couldn't believe how desperate we had been. And we had not felt any closer to God, for all of our efforts.
"I can't believe I got rid of so many things I loved," I shook my head, in much regret.
"Well, I hope you're not mad at me, but...I kept your Toy Story toys," she said.
I cannot begin to describe how relieved and thankful I was, then! I had them back! There were all of my old friends, who had been with me since I was very little. I even still have the Barney Bag that I have always stored them in!
I remember, before the madness of getting rid of them, that I had stayed up late literally every night, lying in my bed and thinking of new adventures for Woody and Buzz "in real life," where they were humans and not toys. They lived in the nineteenth century, and each had a family. Woody was the sheriff of the town, and they were neighbors. Woody also lived on a farm. He and Bo Peep were married, and he was always trying to catch Jesse James (not Jessie the cowgirl, who was his sister).
Toy Story was the first movie I went to see in the theaters, at five years old, and it literally had set the course for the rest of my life. I obsessed endlessly over two questions: When would Andy find out that his toys were alive? And when would they become real people?
Ninety percent of the time, my cousins and I played one of two games: Batman, and Toy Story. I always had to be Woody, even though I wasn't a boy. I invented such elaborate scenarios that I finally had to suggest that we play "non-stop," where we didn't stop to say something like "and pretend that Jessie James and Zurg were friends..." We never lasted more than one or two minutes like that, but it was fun.
Toy Story was what made me first start writing fiction, if only in my head. And writing fiction remains one of the great passions of my life, even now. It set the course for my entire life. I was still writing stories of Woody and Buzz in my head almost constantly, at twelve years old--and that's why I thought it was an idol and that God was surely displeased.
It's amazing to me now that something that brings me so much joy, could be considered a bad thing. If God is really worth knowing, wouldn't he want me to be happy? And if he doesn't want me to be so happy, is he really worth knowing?
I was taught to distrust my own gut and my own emotions, when they told me what I needed. I was afraid to trust myself and my own judgment, especially about right and wrong. But now I understand that I need to go back to the original source of my inspiration, if I'm going to be happy and fulfilled.
I have a theory on the Toy Story toys actually being haunted/reincarnated, which I published a week or two ago. There may be a flaw in that, because of the multiple Buzz Lightyears in the second movie, but in my opinion, the "second Buzz" had an entirely different personality from the "real" Buzz. So I'm still working on that one.
I also am writing a very long Toy Story fan fiction, about Woody and Buzz falling in love. There are no farms this time; it is set in the Buzz Lightyear of Star Command universe, and Woody is a wanted thief who kidnaps Buzz to sell him to his enemies--and he has made a lot of enemies, as a decorated Space Ranger!
It will be finished soon, and I will publish the chapters on my Deviant Art page--I'll let everyone know here when it is up. I usually like to write an entire story before publishing it, unlike with my other romance story, about the Accelerated Christian Education characters, Pudge and Ronny (that story is on the "Gay Christian Fanfiction" page at the top of the blog, or on my Deviant Art Page). I will continue writing the ACE story soon, too, though I am focusing on Toy Story for now. (I also have another story on my Deviant Art page, about Captain America's sidekick, Bucky, and his sister, a transgender Mary Marvel.)
This fascination with Toy Story may seem silly to a lot of people--but now that I can, I have to listen to my own gut and emotions, when they tell me what's right and wrong, or what I need in my life. There's nothing wrong with loving something, as I've discovered--and love is love, as Woody and Buzz will discover. I plan to include a lot of the other characters from the Toy Story movies, as well. A sci-fi setting, with all of its alien races, is perfect for such things. :)
And I'm especially glad that I still have my absolute, all-time favorite toys, because I've made them reenact some of the scenes in my upcoming story for you here:
"Christian" Is Not A Choice--But Hurting Others Is
I recently made the point that, at least to an extent, one cannot choose their belief system. However, one can choose how to express it.
You do not have a "right" to own a business. If your personal beliefs do not let you serve everyone equally, then the decent and ethical thing to do would be to sell your business, so that others do not have to be discriminated against. Even if it's your dream, to own such a business--because it's our dream to be equal citizens, and not have to be told we're abominations when we're planning the happiest day of our lives. Sometimes people feel led to give up their dreams, for God; that's just the way it is. (Or should Rosa have simply gone to the back of the bus, and not "caused trouble"?)
You also do not have a right to demand that the government support "biblical" marriage. Marriage, at least in this sense, is a legal contract. If it was the government's business what "real" marriage was, then divorced people would not be allowed to remarry. You are a hypocrite, if you support one form of "unbiblical" marriage, and not another--especially if you are divorced yourself. (And if you really did repent, then you would try to get back together with your ex or one of your exes! At least Kim Davis did that much.)
Now matter how much I pity or sympathize with other people, I must fight them, as much as I can, if they are hurting others. And they don't get to decide whether they're hurting others or not; abusers mostly don't know that they're abusers! One can only really know how much they are being hurt, not how much they are hurting others. Abusers don't think of what they're doing as abuse, and rapists often don't think of what they did as rape, because it doesn't fit the cliches. You don't have to intend to hurt someone, or even to know you're hurting them, in order to hurt them.
It doesn't even matter how much or how little you "hate" other people; if you are hurting people, you are hurting people! The fact that you say you love us, does not make being second-class citizens hurt any less. (And what the heck do you call people who don't have equal rights? There's a name for these people: Second-class citizens!)
I'm not sure why people expect me to care whether they hate me or not. That has absolutely nothing to do with whether one is hurting others.
I couldn't shake my beliefs in hell, and a homophobic and sexist god, for a long time. And it was because of fear--because anything different seemed too good to be true. And I was taught to distrust any idea that I liked or actually wanted to believe, because my flesh was bad. But I'm glad that social media was not around when I was thirteen. I'm glad I couldn't hurt very many people with my inherently hurtful beliefs. I was a prisoner to these beliefs, but I still could have done a lot of damage.
Bothering other people, when they don't want to listen to your message, is not okay. Taking away legal rights is not okay. Discrimination, even in the name of God, is not okay. You have a choice: To ask if someone wants to hear your message, and then respect their "no," as Jesus said to in the bible. To understand that it is a legal contract, and that you cannot force your religion onto others. To sell your business, or choose not to do any weddings at all.
If people were being fired for marrying someone of the opposite sex, Christians would be outraged. If people were being denied the right to legally marry the opposite sex, they would be livid--even though they could always marry in their church, anyway. And if Muslims were refusing to do Christian weddings, people would not be talking about business owners' rights as if they were sacred.
Being Christian, or even conservative, is sometimes not a choice. But hurting others is. If you have a deeply held religious belief, you are the one who should make the sacrifices--not others. Apparently, a lot of Christians do not believe in a god that rewards their sacrifices made for him. Or they do not believe that the rewards will be worth it...Interesting...
You do not have a "right" to own a business. If your personal beliefs do not let you serve everyone equally, then the decent and ethical thing to do would be to sell your business, so that others do not have to be discriminated against. Even if it's your dream, to own such a business--because it's our dream to be equal citizens, and not have to be told we're abominations when we're planning the happiest day of our lives. Sometimes people feel led to give up their dreams, for God; that's just the way it is. (Or should Rosa have simply gone to the back of the bus, and not "caused trouble"?)
You also do not have a right to demand that the government support "biblical" marriage. Marriage, at least in this sense, is a legal contract. If it was the government's business what "real" marriage was, then divorced people would not be allowed to remarry. You are a hypocrite, if you support one form of "unbiblical" marriage, and not another--especially if you are divorced yourself. (And if you really did repent, then you would try to get back together with your ex or one of your exes! At least Kim Davis did that much.)
Now matter how much I pity or sympathize with other people, I must fight them, as much as I can, if they are hurting others. And they don't get to decide whether they're hurting others or not; abusers mostly don't know that they're abusers! One can only really know how much they are being hurt, not how much they are hurting others. Abusers don't think of what they're doing as abuse, and rapists often don't think of what they did as rape, because it doesn't fit the cliches. You don't have to intend to hurt someone, or even to know you're hurting them, in order to hurt them.
It doesn't even matter how much or how little you "hate" other people; if you are hurting people, you are hurting people! The fact that you say you love us, does not make being second-class citizens hurt any less. (And what the heck do you call people who don't have equal rights? There's a name for these people: Second-class citizens!)
I'm not sure why people expect me to care whether they hate me or not. That has absolutely nothing to do with whether one is hurting others.
I couldn't shake my beliefs in hell, and a homophobic and sexist god, for a long time. And it was because of fear--because anything different seemed too good to be true. And I was taught to distrust any idea that I liked or actually wanted to believe, because my flesh was bad. But I'm glad that social media was not around when I was thirteen. I'm glad I couldn't hurt very many people with my inherently hurtful beliefs. I was a prisoner to these beliefs, but I still could have done a lot of damage.
Bothering other people, when they don't want to listen to your message, is not okay. Taking away legal rights is not okay. Discrimination, even in the name of God, is not okay. You have a choice: To ask if someone wants to hear your message, and then respect their "no," as Jesus said to in the bible. To understand that it is a legal contract, and that you cannot force your religion onto others. To sell your business, or choose not to do any weddings at all.
If people were being fired for marrying someone of the opposite sex, Christians would be outraged. If people were being denied the right to legally marry the opposite sex, they would be livid--even though they could always marry in their church, anyway. And if Muslims were refusing to do Christian weddings, people would not be talking about business owners' rights as if they were sacred.
Being Christian, or even conservative, is sometimes not a choice. But hurting others is. If you have a deeply held religious belief, you are the one who should make the sacrifices--not others. Apparently, a lot of Christians do not believe in a god that rewards their sacrifices made for him. Or they do not believe that the rewards will be worth it...Interesting...
Friday, April 8, 2016
Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber: My Youth Group Horror Stories
So I came across this the other day:
And it reminded of my old youth pastor, who stabbed an orange with a screwdriver to show how emotionally devastating premarital sex was. He didn't gently use it.
Each time the theoretical person had sex, he covered the orange with another layer of aluminum foil, and stabbed it again. Eventually, the person got married, and their spouse had to peel away the layers of hurt to get to the person underneath. He never proved that people were actually like a screwdriver-stabbed orange covered with tinfoil, though.
A couple of boys in the youth group begged to be the ones to eat the orange, but he didn't let them. He had a sack full of other oranges to share.
"Technically, sex is when the boy's penis goes into the girl's vagina, but we're also talking about other sexual things, here," he said, making everyone in the mixed group uncomfortable.
He also liked arranged marriages, "courting," and said that Christians shouldn't date unless they want to be married right away. He said that one would get hurt, if they dated a non-believer. I pointed out that one could very well get hurt, dating a believer, because you just didn't know about people. He seemed forced to admit that, "Yes, you might get burned dating a believer, but you WILL get burned dating an unbeliever!" My mom later said that trying to avoid being hurt at all costs was no way to date, or to live.
This guy was actually the more fun, less serious youth pastor, too. His partner made fewer jokes and laughed less--though he wasn't angry, just serious.
In one "photo scavenger hunt" we did, one of the items the stabber put on the list was "Get your group 'goose-stepping' through the grocery store parking lot!" I was later glad I was on the other pastor's team, because, while the other guy misunderstood and had us waddle around like ducks, the orange-stabber actually meant that we should walk around like marching Nazis. In a public place. And then take a picture of that! While we were driving around in a van with a church emblem on it!
There was also a black girl in the youth group, and I think she was not on my team. She spoke fluent German, and I'm not sure if that makes it better, worse, or the same.
I only went to that youth group, in my teens, because I was homeschooled and wanted to socialize. I didn't go to the actual church, and my parents didn't, either. I was feeling very burnt out on church and Christianity. But I knew my bible backwards and forwards, I had some views that were a little more liberal and tolerant than the mainstream evangelical church, and I thought that the youth group was like a discussion group. Which caused a few problems because Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber thought that it was a place where he taught the kids what to believe. Eventually, I could tell that he didn't like me.
I think part of it was that I was a girl, and was so outspoken, too. If it had been a boy, I think he would have reacted just a little bit differently. But he didn't like any kid (respectfully) questioning him, nonetheless.
I am so very glad to be rid of that group, that church, and those people. Evangelicalism is a joke. All of the plain, "normal," mainstream evangelical churches and schools I've gone to have been much worse than they seemed at first.
And most of all, they've been much worse than they thought they were. I'm glad Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber is out of my life. If you're going to be in my life, and have those kinds of views, you had better share some of my DNA. And even then, we're not going to be close, and I will only see you when I have to. That's just the rules, because I have to protect myself, for I've been hurt many times by conservative evangelicalism. They've stabbed my orange so much that I'm still peeling back layers of foil. But I'm doing it on my own, no spouse needed. No church needed, either. And I like being without a church, or at least without their church.
And it reminded of my old youth pastor, who stabbed an orange with a screwdriver to show how emotionally devastating premarital sex was. He didn't gently use it.
Each time the theoretical person had sex, he covered the orange with another layer of aluminum foil, and stabbed it again. Eventually, the person got married, and their spouse had to peel away the layers of hurt to get to the person underneath. He never proved that people were actually like a screwdriver-stabbed orange covered with tinfoil, though.
A couple of boys in the youth group begged to be the ones to eat the orange, but he didn't let them. He had a sack full of other oranges to share.
"Technically, sex is when the boy's penis goes into the girl's vagina, but we're also talking about other sexual things, here," he said, making everyone in the mixed group uncomfortable.
He also liked arranged marriages, "courting," and said that Christians shouldn't date unless they want to be married right away. He said that one would get hurt, if they dated a non-believer. I pointed out that one could very well get hurt, dating a believer, because you just didn't know about people. He seemed forced to admit that, "Yes, you might get burned dating a believer, but you WILL get burned dating an unbeliever!" My mom later said that trying to avoid being hurt at all costs was no way to date, or to live.
This guy was actually the more fun, less serious youth pastor, too. His partner made fewer jokes and laughed less--though he wasn't angry, just serious.
In one "photo scavenger hunt" we did, one of the items the stabber put on the list was "Get your group 'goose-stepping' through the grocery store parking lot!" I was later glad I was on the other pastor's team, because, while the other guy misunderstood and had us waddle around like ducks, the orange-stabber actually meant that we should walk around like marching Nazis. In a public place. And then take a picture of that! While we were driving around in a van with a church emblem on it!
There was also a black girl in the youth group, and I think she was not on my team. She spoke fluent German, and I'm not sure if that makes it better, worse, or the same.
I only went to that youth group, in my teens, because I was homeschooled and wanted to socialize. I didn't go to the actual church, and my parents didn't, either. I was feeling very burnt out on church and Christianity. But I knew my bible backwards and forwards, I had some views that were a little more liberal and tolerant than the mainstream evangelical church, and I thought that the youth group was like a discussion group. Which caused a few problems because Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber thought that it was a place where he taught the kids what to believe. Eventually, I could tell that he didn't like me.
I think part of it was that I was a girl, and was so outspoken, too. If it had been a boy, I think he would have reacted just a little bit differently. But he didn't like any kid (respectfully) questioning him, nonetheless.
I am so very glad to be rid of that group, that church, and those people. Evangelicalism is a joke. All of the plain, "normal," mainstream evangelical churches and schools I've gone to have been much worse than they seemed at first.
And most of all, they've been much worse than they thought they were. I'm glad Mr. Nazi McOrangeStabber is out of my life. If you're going to be in my life, and have those kinds of views, you had better share some of my DNA. And even then, we're not going to be close, and I will only see you when I have to. That's just the rules, because I have to protect myself, for I've been hurt many times by conservative evangelicalism. They've stabbed my orange so much that I'm still peeling back layers of foil. But I'm doing it on my own, no spouse needed. No church needed, either. And I like being without a church, or at least without their church.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
"Gay" Is Not A Choice--And Neither Is "Christian"
One of my Facebook friends posted recently about feeling very old, and a friend of his left this very interesting comment:
I have 2 young men in their 20's and a gay son in his 50's. He introduced me to the boys and of course I am old enough to be their great grandfather both of these really intelligent young men find me fascinating both in and out of bed. I have not slept with my son bye the bye.
I looked on this man's profile, and coincidentally, he lives only about an hour north of me (there's a small chance I might know either or both of his two lovers, and not be aware of it). He is sixty-nine and also a big marijuana enthusiast. He's an old-school, bearded, free-love hippie.
I had somewhat of a difficult time deciphering the story from that comment, but I believe that he and his son shared two younger lovers. And apparently, his son is okay with that. I thought that the funniest part was the last sentence, when he felt he had to say that he's never slept with his son.
That was just a funny tidbit that I wanted to share. This same guy later shared a meme about gay Christianity, saying it was "proof beyond a shadow of a doubt" that "gay Christians suck." (Well, yeah, they do, but only the men!) The meme was a photo of two men hugging and laughing, over which were the words, "I am a proud, gay, Christian man. Yes, you read that right. Gay AND Christian. God loves me. Get over yourself."
I'm not sure how that proves, exactly, that anyone sucks. Except perhaps for the people who can't get over themselves.
But this reminded me of one of the Gay Christian Network's frequently asked questions, "Why identify as Christian when so many Christians are anti-gay?"
And yet I've been asked by homophobic Christians (when arguing "as" a gay Christian--I have kind of a Christian "side," so I don't feel like I'm lying) why I call myself gay (I'm actually bisexual, but it's just easier than explaining that I see myself more with another woman). "Why not just call yourself a Christian?" one of them asked.
These two questions both reveal a lot of ignorance and insensitivity. "Why call yourself gay?" and "Why call yourself a Christian?" can both be answered in the exact same way: Because it's something that you believe is accurate to describe yourself (why lie?), something that you feel you can't change, and something that you just identify with, for whatever reason.
If people have a personal problem with Christianity, or their own Christian past, I totally understand that (believe me--this blog's title was, and its address still is, "Atheist Journeys"--I've been there!). But religion is a lot like sexual orientation: It's something that you don't (can't) really "choose," and it's a part of people's identity. (But we still are obligated to do everything in our power to ensure that the religious do not harm or bother others--and we don't allow harmful people to decide how much they're harming others, either. One can only know how much they ARE harmed; not how much they harm others--no matter what they think God tells them!)
It took me so many years to escape the fear of hell, even when I considered myself an atheist, and after I had figured out years before that I couldn't be a devout Christian. Sometimes I still feel bothered by it, even though I was much more bothered as a born-again evangelical.
Did I choose to believe in hell, or in God? No. And I can't make myself say, "I know God is real, I know Jesus was God," etc, even now, because I don't know for sure. I couldn't make myself not believe, and I can't myself believe, either.
You believe what you believe, just like you love whom you love. (Again, your beliefs, and love for that matter, do NOT justify any kind of harm or discrimination whatsoever--and you don't have a right to own a business!)
Just because one gay person can leave religion behind, doesn't mean that they all can--or want to. And I don't believe Christians/theists--gay, straight, or anti-gay (which is just gay, in my opinion!)--should ever look down on non-believers, either. As long as one is not discriminating against or harming others (including their potentially gay kids, family, and friends), I don't think it matters what one believes, as far as God goes.
LGBT people especially should be understanding and considerate of each other, whether they believe or not. We have too many people trying to tear us down. Let's not tear down each other, please. Thank you. :)
I have 2 young men in their 20's and a gay son in his 50's. He introduced me to the boys and of course I am old enough to be their great grandfather both of these really intelligent young men find me fascinating both in and out of bed. I have not slept with my son bye the bye.
I looked on this man's profile, and coincidentally, he lives only about an hour north of me (there's a small chance I might know either or both of his two lovers, and not be aware of it). He is sixty-nine and also a big marijuana enthusiast. He's an old-school, bearded, free-love hippie.
I had somewhat of a difficult time deciphering the story from that comment, but I believe that he and his son shared two younger lovers. And apparently, his son is okay with that. I thought that the funniest part was the last sentence, when he felt he had to say that he's never slept with his son.
That was just a funny tidbit that I wanted to share. This same guy later shared a meme about gay Christianity, saying it was "proof beyond a shadow of a doubt" that "gay Christians suck." (Well, yeah, they do, but only the men!) The meme was a photo of two men hugging and laughing, over which were the words, "I am a proud, gay, Christian man. Yes, you read that right. Gay AND Christian. God loves me. Get over yourself."
I'm not sure how that proves, exactly, that anyone sucks. Except perhaps for the people who can't get over themselves.
But this reminded me of one of the Gay Christian Network's frequently asked questions, "Why identify as Christian when so many Christians are anti-gay?"
And yet I've been asked by homophobic Christians (when arguing "as" a gay Christian--I have kind of a Christian "side," so I don't feel like I'm lying) why I call myself gay (I'm actually bisexual, but it's just easier than explaining that I see myself more with another woman). "Why not just call yourself a Christian?" one of them asked.
These two questions both reveal a lot of ignorance and insensitivity. "Why call yourself gay?" and "Why call yourself a Christian?" can both be answered in the exact same way: Because it's something that you believe is accurate to describe yourself (why lie?), something that you feel you can't change, and something that you just identify with, for whatever reason.
If people have a personal problem with Christianity, or their own Christian past, I totally understand that (believe me--this blog's title was, and its address still is, "Atheist Journeys"--I've been there!). But religion is a lot like sexual orientation: It's something that you don't (can't) really "choose," and it's a part of people's identity. (But we still are obligated to do everything in our power to ensure that the religious do not harm or bother others--and we don't allow harmful people to decide how much they're harming others, either. One can only know how much they ARE harmed; not how much they harm others--no matter what they think God tells them!)
It took me so many years to escape the fear of hell, even when I considered myself an atheist, and after I had figured out years before that I couldn't be a devout Christian. Sometimes I still feel bothered by it, even though I was much more bothered as a born-again evangelical.
Did I choose to believe in hell, or in God? No. And I can't make myself say, "I know God is real, I know Jesus was God," etc, even now, because I don't know for sure. I couldn't make myself not believe, and I can't myself believe, either.
You believe what you believe, just like you love whom you love. (Again, your beliefs, and love for that matter, do NOT justify any kind of harm or discrimination whatsoever--and you don't have a right to own a business!)
Just because one gay person can leave religion behind, doesn't mean that they all can--or want to. And I don't believe Christians/theists--gay, straight, or anti-gay (which is just gay, in my opinion!)--should ever look down on non-believers, either. As long as one is not discriminating against or harming others (including their potentially gay kids, family, and friends), I don't think it matters what one believes, as far as God goes.
LGBT people especially should be understanding and considerate of each other, whether they believe or not. We have too many people trying to tear us down. Let's not tear down each other, please. Thank you. :)
Wednesday, April 6, 2016
My Toy Story Theory: The "Toys" Are Haunted/Reincarnated After Death
The Toy Story toys display many very human characteristics, including
ones associated with having actual human bodies. This is because they
are reincarnated, after their own (human) deaths.
Look at Woody cough in this clip from Toy Story 2.
To cough, you need lungs, a cough reflex, and a system that is affected by dust. If you look closely, you can also see his tongue, even though as a "toy" he does not need a tongue.
In the first movie, at least most of the "human" toys also seem to reenact their own deaths.
Woody is "shot" in the stomach by the Etch-A-Sketch.
Buzz suffocates in the air of a strange planet (and talks about his "eyeballs being sucked from their sockets").
Combat Carl is blown to bits.
Even Bo Peep grabs Woody about the neck with her staff (and Woody talks about how "painful it is--you need nerve endings to feel pain!). This could indicate that she was hanged, perhaps as a witch, or perhaps for a crime--and that she has an obsession with the neck because of it.
RC crashes violently into Buzz, then the back of the moving van.
Potato Head suffers a violent fate, with much dismemberment, towards the end of the first movie. This would explain what kind of body he got after his death, with parts coming off all the time.
Slinky is "dragged" behind a moving van. He was dragged to death, accidentally, in life, when he was tied to a car by his leash and left there (go to about 4:21 into the video).
An alien is torn up by a giant (to him) dog.
The toy soldiers don't need any explanation, or even any reenactments.
In the short "Toy Story of Terror," also, Jessie reenacts her own death by getting into a box--a coffin--where she is afraid of being abandoned and trapped. She was accidentally (or not) buried alive in life, and died in the coffin in which she woke up. I also heard a human heartbeat as a sound effect when I watched it on TV, though I have not been able to find a clip with the heartbeat sound. If my memory serves, and the heartbeat indeed was there, then that would indicate that Jessie has a heart.
In addition, in the first movie, Buzz does not in fact know that he is dead. Woody tries to convince him that he is a "toy," but that is only a polite way to put it. Buzz does not know that he's a toy, because he does not know that he is dead! Therefore, he does not know that he has been reincarnated. Woody is the good guy, who is trying to get Buzz to face and accept his own death.
In the second movie, Woody is hopeful that by touring the world, his memory will live on after his death. Buzz tries to gently convince him to give up thinking about his last life, and focus on this one.
The toys feel pain, are burned, breathe, see, and have "wing erections" (when Buzz sees Jessie jump onto a doorknob to let the dog out, in the second movie, his wings pop open, and some people say that that represents him having an erection). Buzz even gets drunk-- these all things that require a body. They even "die" again every time a human is in the room. Woody and the other toys only overcame the impulse or compulsion to "die" when Buzz was in danger of dying again, perhaps permanently. This compulsion can only be overcome with a very strong will, which is why the toys do not reveal themselves as alive to Andy, even though he is wonderful and they all love him very much. (Did anyone else see the movie as a child, then sit their toys down and explain that it was okay for the toys to come to life in front of them?)
This even explains why Buzz can still fly, even as a toy. He retains a at least a vestige of his abilities from his past life, and he also has a real body.
The only "evidence" against this theory is that in the second movie, Woody's arm is ripped, and we see "stuffing" coming out. However, that is not "stuffing."
That is ectoplasm! They have reincarnated bodies, and so they produce ectoplasm, which the living think is "stuffing." (Some ectoplasm from old-time mediums was described as "resembling cheesecloth" or other, similar materials.) This ectoplasm is what the living see, rather than the real muscles and blood underneath.
The toys reenact their own deaths. So even if they have bodies, why would they not produce ectoplasm? They are not truly living beings in the same way we are, after all. This is an afterlife, a kind of living death.
Look at Woody cough in this clip from Toy Story 2.
To cough, you need lungs, a cough reflex, and a system that is affected by dust. If you look closely, you can also see his tongue, even though as a "toy" he does not need a tongue.
In the first movie, at least most of the "human" toys also seem to reenact their own deaths.
Woody is "shot" in the stomach by the Etch-A-Sketch.
Buzz suffocates in the air of a strange planet (and talks about his "eyeballs being sucked from their sockets").
Combat Carl is blown to bits.
Even Bo Peep grabs Woody about the neck with her staff (and Woody talks about how "painful it is--you need nerve endings to feel pain!). This could indicate that she was hanged, perhaps as a witch, or perhaps for a crime--and that she has an obsession with the neck because of it.
RC crashes violently into Buzz, then the back of the moving van.
Potato Head suffers a violent fate, with much dismemberment, towards the end of the first movie. This would explain what kind of body he got after his death, with parts coming off all the time.
Slinky is "dragged" behind a moving van. He was dragged to death, accidentally, in life, when he was tied to a car by his leash and left there (go to about 4:21 into the video).
An alien is torn up by a giant (to him) dog.
The toy soldiers don't need any explanation, or even any reenactments.
In the short "Toy Story of Terror," also, Jessie reenacts her own death by getting into a box--a coffin--where she is afraid of being abandoned and trapped. She was accidentally (or not) buried alive in life, and died in the coffin in which she woke up. I also heard a human heartbeat as a sound effect when I watched it on TV, though I have not been able to find a clip with the heartbeat sound. If my memory serves, and the heartbeat indeed was there, then that would indicate that Jessie has a heart.
In addition, in the first movie, Buzz does not in fact know that he is dead. Woody tries to convince him that he is a "toy," but that is only a polite way to put it. Buzz does not know that he's a toy, because he does not know that he is dead! Therefore, he does not know that he has been reincarnated. Woody is the good guy, who is trying to get Buzz to face and accept his own death.
In the second movie, Woody is hopeful that by touring the world, his memory will live on after his death. Buzz tries to gently convince him to give up thinking about his last life, and focus on this one.
The toys feel pain, are burned, breathe, see, and have "wing erections" (when Buzz sees Jessie jump onto a doorknob to let the dog out, in the second movie, his wings pop open, and some people say that that represents him having an erection). Buzz even gets drunk-- these all things that require a body. They even "die" again every time a human is in the room. Woody and the other toys only overcame the impulse or compulsion to "die" when Buzz was in danger of dying again, perhaps permanently. This compulsion can only be overcome with a very strong will, which is why the toys do not reveal themselves as alive to Andy, even though he is wonderful and they all love him very much. (Did anyone else see the movie as a child, then sit their toys down and explain that it was okay for the toys to come to life in front of them?)
This even explains why Buzz can still fly, even as a toy. He retains a at least a vestige of his abilities from his past life, and he also has a real body.
The only "evidence" against this theory is that in the second movie, Woody's arm is ripped, and we see "stuffing" coming out. However, that is not "stuffing."
That is ectoplasm! They have reincarnated bodies, and so they produce ectoplasm, which the living think is "stuffing." (Some ectoplasm from old-time mediums was described as "resembling cheesecloth" or other, similar materials.) This ectoplasm is what the living see, rather than the real muscles and blood underneath.
The toys reenact their own deaths. So even if they have bodies, why would they not produce ectoplasm? They are not truly living beings in the same way we are, after all. This is an afterlife, a kind of living death.
Friday, April 1, 2016
Trigger Warning: Christian Content
This is a rather heavy subject, but I feel it needs to be addressed, because people are not talking about Christianity being a trigger for some.
My mother and I were at the county fair once, when I was in my late teens, and as we made our way to the parking lot to go home, a man in an expensive-looking suit, with the cheesiest, oiliest salesman's voice I have ever heard, approached us in the crowd.
"Hey ladies, would you care for some stimulus money? It's totally worthless, but there's a really cool gospel message on the underside," he said slickly.
"No, thank you," I said quietly, shaking my head and looking down at the ground.
"We're saved!" my mother laughed, before he could respond.
"Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed, instantly moving on the someone else.
Why had I been so quiet, looking down at the ground? Because the thought of even looking any more at that cartoon Obama made me want to cry. I couldn't even accept it from him and then throw it away, because it brought back too many painful memories. I was extremely lucky that though my mother struggled with such pain too, she was apparently strong enough to fake a certainty which we both no longer had.
I went to a conservative evangelical school as a child, and later was homeschooled with curriculum bought from that same school. The school taught me that JOY stood for "Jesus, Others, You," but judging by that standard, most of the teachers did not put Jesus first. It was not overly strict, but its constant emphasis on sin and hell made me pray often that God would not let me die if I had sins that I did not yet know about, and therefore couldn't repent from.
I did accept Christ as my Savior at an early age, and later realized that I was "supposed" to be assured of my salvation, since I know I had been sincere and Jesus paid the penalty. But I still felt like I was constantly disappointing God. I tried so hard to be a good Christian; to pray long hours; to study my bible every day; to witness to others; and to constantly talk to God in my head and never have a bad thought (that one was the most exhausting by far). And I obviously wasn't measuring up, because why else didn't I ever feel close to God?
All of this finally came to a head when I was going through an especially chaotic time in my life, around age fifteen. I begged God to show me that he was real, so that I could continue to believe in him. Or at least to show me that everything was going to be all right. Where was the "peace that passes all understanding"? What was I doing wrong, that I didn't have it? I had tried so hard over the years, and had gotten saved and rededicated my life to Christ so many times.
I'm sure you can guess what happened. For a long time I felt numb, and any mention of Christianity literally drove me to have a panic attack, or nearly so. If I saw a Christian book in a thrift shop, I had to leave the books section, quickly. If I bought a book that turned out to be Christian, by mistake, I threw it away from me as if it had burned me, and later had to throw it in the garbage or get it out of the house, quickly.
For all intents and purposes, I was much like a "demon." I had certainly been taught that an aversion to Christianity was an indication of evil. And that didn't help my self-image.
It was only years later that I could stand to even think about Christianity at all, much less write about it. It still makes me want to cry sometimes, to think deeply of my "failure" to be a Christian and the terrible way my religious upbringing made me feel about myself.
Yes, I have been hurt by Christians, and certain forms of evangelical Christianity (which every evangelical Christian reader will probably, sadly, interpret as someone else's tradition). I try to be honest about that, wherever it leads me. And to some people, that will only "prove" that I'm whatever I am now (though sometimes I don't even know) because I hate God.
And yet the same people who say that we must forgive everybody (regardless of whether they repent or not), believe that hurt is always and automatically followed by hate.
And the same people who say that "it's not a religion, it's a relationship," believe that "God" is the same exact thing as "Christianity" or "religion." Or at least, they think that I have grown up in Christianity, and would still be stupid enough to conflate the two.
I don't blame God for what happened. But I've used up my last little bit of faith trying to believe, and be a good Christian, and I've learned the hard way that that is sometimes simply not enough. And that for whatever reason, God didn't or couldn't help me to believe. Whatever relationship I have with God, if such a being exists, is now up to God, not me.
And I don't necessarily think, especially now, that I am far away from God, if God exists. But it still hurts to be condemned for being hurt, and wanting that hurt out of my life--as I know some would do, if they knew this about me.
My mother and I were at the county fair once, when I was in my late teens, and as we made our way to the parking lot to go home, a man in an expensive-looking suit, with the cheesiest, oiliest salesman's voice I have ever heard, approached us in the crowd.
"Hey ladies, would you care for some stimulus money? It's totally worthless, but there's a really cool gospel message on the underside," he said slickly.
"No, thank you," I said quietly, shaking my head and looking down at the ground.
"We're saved!" my mother laughed, before he could respond.
"Oh, thank God!" he exclaimed, instantly moving on the someone else.
Why had I been so quiet, looking down at the ground? Because the thought of even looking any more at that cartoon Obama made me want to cry. I couldn't even accept it from him and then throw it away, because it brought back too many painful memories. I was extremely lucky that though my mother struggled with such pain too, she was apparently strong enough to fake a certainty which we both no longer had.
I went to a conservative evangelical school as a child, and later was homeschooled with curriculum bought from that same school. The school taught me that JOY stood for "Jesus, Others, You," but judging by that standard, most of the teachers did not put Jesus first. It was not overly strict, but its constant emphasis on sin and hell made me pray often that God would not let me die if I had sins that I did not yet know about, and therefore couldn't repent from.
I did accept Christ as my Savior at an early age, and later realized that I was "supposed" to be assured of my salvation, since I know I had been sincere and Jesus paid the penalty. But I still felt like I was constantly disappointing God. I tried so hard to be a good Christian; to pray long hours; to study my bible every day; to witness to others; and to constantly talk to God in my head and never have a bad thought (that one was the most exhausting by far). And I obviously wasn't measuring up, because why else didn't I ever feel close to God?
All of this finally came to a head when I was going through an especially chaotic time in my life, around age fifteen. I begged God to show me that he was real, so that I could continue to believe in him. Or at least to show me that everything was going to be all right. Where was the "peace that passes all understanding"? What was I doing wrong, that I didn't have it? I had tried so hard over the years, and had gotten saved and rededicated my life to Christ so many times.
I'm sure you can guess what happened. For a long time I felt numb, and any mention of Christianity literally drove me to have a panic attack, or nearly so. If I saw a Christian book in a thrift shop, I had to leave the books section, quickly. If I bought a book that turned out to be Christian, by mistake, I threw it away from me as if it had burned me, and later had to throw it in the garbage or get it out of the house, quickly.
For all intents and purposes, I was much like a "demon." I had certainly been taught that an aversion to Christianity was an indication of evil. And that didn't help my self-image.
It was only years later that I could stand to even think about Christianity at all, much less write about it. It still makes me want to cry sometimes, to think deeply of my "failure" to be a Christian and the terrible way my religious upbringing made me feel about myself.
Yes, I have been hurt by Christians, and certain forms of evangelical Christianity (which every evangelical Christian reader will probably, sadly, interpret as someone else's tradition). I try to be honest about that, wherever it leads me. And to some people, that will only "prove" that I'm whatever I am now (though sometimes I don't even know) because I hate God.
And yet the same people who say that we must forgive everybody (regardless of whether they repent or not), believe that hurt is always and automatically followed by hate.
And the same people who say that "it's not a religion, it's a relationship," believe that "God" is the same exact thing as "Christianity" or "religion." Or at least, they think that I have grown up in Christianity, and would still be stupid enough to conflate the two.
I don't blame God for what happened. But I've used up my last little bit of faith trying to believe, and be a good Christian, and I've learned the hard way that that is sometimes simply not enough. And that for whatever reason, God didn't or couldn't help me to believe. Whatever relationship I have with God, if such a being exists, is now up to God, not me.
And I don't necessarily think, especially now, that I am far away from God, if God exists. But it still hurts to be condemned for being hurt, and wanting that hurt out of my life--as I know some would do, if they knew this about me.
Christian And "Christian"
I mentioned recently that anti-gay Christians want me to deny Christ, when I argue as a gay Christian. They brag that they would never, ever, EVER deny Christ, under penalty of torture or death, then they try to get me to do just that, because I don't fit their exact definition of a Christian.
Whenever I come across these awful people, my first thought is, "I know I'm more 'Christian' than they are!" I use this word to mean two different things, in my own mind, but in this case, I believe that I am a kinder and less angry person than they are. And probably closer to what Jesus actually taught.
I think of the word "Christian" sometimes to mean devoutness, or certainty. I am not as devout in behavior as some of my gay Christian friends, or as certain as them about God's existence.
But I also think of the word "Christian," to refer to one's character, behavior towards others, or likely closeness to what I believe Jesus's message really was.
I don't read the bible, and I don't offer up formal prayers. My reasons are that doing those things only makes me feel as frustrated and inadequate as a Christian as I felt for years while doing those things. It's "triggering," emotionally tiring, and upsetting for me. So I'm less devout, apparently, than some of my gay and affirming Christian friends (and I don't have Christian friends who aren't one of those things; the only anti-gay Christians I see, share some DNA with me, and I only see them when I have to).
But someone said to be as good and all-knowing as God, would know that it's not because I hate him, or whatever people want to accuse me of. I hope that God is real, if God is as I suspect, but I'm not going to count on that. I've trusted God--and nothing else--to catch me before, and have fallen really hard and gotten hurt.
I don't tell the people I occasionally argue with on the internet all of this, because it would instantly destroy my credibility with them (not that it's in great shape, anyway!), as well as that of much more devout gay Christians than I. It also has nothing to do with my sexuality, and it's none of their business.
But as far as being "Christian" (close to God, like Christ) goes, I think it involves much more than just the works. Paul talked about doing good works (not even praying and reading the bible, but actual good works like feeding the poor), "but if I have not love, I am nothing."
And the thing about love is, if the person you love doesn't feel loved, then you might as well not love them. It benefits no one, if your loved one feels unloved.
The next world may exist, but this one does exist. Anti-gay Christians are hurting people in this world, in the hopes of helping them in the next one (at best). But there may not be a next one.
In my research, I have found only two instances in scripture where Jesus actually told people to stop sinning. In one, he had just healed a man of chronic illness. In the other, he had just saved a sinful woman's life. He earned the right to talk about other people's sin, even though scripture says he was sinless himself. How many LGBT people can say that an anti-gay Christian saved their life, or made their lives better in a very significant way?
Jesus even told a man (the one lowered in from the roof) that his sins were forgiven, before the man had even said anything about repenting. He told sinners that "your faith has saved you," and "your faith has made you well." He did not even say "your repentance has saved you."
Jesus was not as "hard on sin" (and by that, they always mean the sins of others, never their own!) as some Christians want to think. The "goats" were condemned for their unkindness, the virgins for their unreadiness, the Pharisees for their hypocrisy--but as far as I can recall, no one was condemned for their actual sin. Jesus also said that "prostitutes and sinners will enter the kingdom of heaven before you," to the religious leaders. He did not say "repentant prostitutes and sinners..."
And if he was talking constantly about other people's sins, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten invited to parties with sinners, much less had a great following among them.
I don't think Jesus would be like the people who talk about other people's sins (though never their own), and that's why I can think of myself as more "Christian" than them. If I'm wrong, then at least I tried to love people, and not hurt them in this life--which is the only life we are really guaranteed.
Like I said, the next world may exist, but this one does exist. So we shouldn't be hurting each other in this one, just because of our fear of the next one.
Whenever I come across these awful people, my first thought is, "I know I'm more 'Christian' than they are!" I use this word to mean two different things, in my own mind, but in this case, I believe that I am a kinder and less angry person than they are. And probably closer to what Jesus actually taught.
I think of the word "Christian" sometimes to mean devoutness, or certainty. I am not as devout in behavior as some of my gay Christian friends, or as certain as them about God's existence.
But I also think of the word "Christian," to refer to one's character, behavior towards others, or likely closeness to what I believe Jesus's message really was.
I don't read the bible, and I don't offer up formal prayers. My reasons are that doing those things only makes me feel as frustrated and inadequate as a Christian as I felt for years while doing those things. It's "triggering," emotionally tiring, and upsetting for me. So I'm less devout, apparently, than some of my gay and affirming Christian friends (and I don't have Christian friends who aren't one of those things; the only anti-gay Christians I see, share some DNA with me, and I only see them when I have to).
But someone said to be as good and all-knowing as God, would know that it's not because I hate him, or whatever people want to accuse me of. I hope that God is real, if God is as I suspect, but I'm not going to count on that. I've trusted God--and nothing else--to catch me before, and have fallen really hard and gotten hurt.
I don't tell the people I occasionally argue with on the internet all of this, because it would instantly destroy my credibility with them (not that it's in great shape, anyway!), as well as that of much more devout gay Christians than I. It also has nothing to do with my sexuality, and it's none of their business.
But as far as being "Christian" (close to God, like Christ) goes, I think it involves much more than just the works. Paul talked about doing good works (not even praying and reading the bible, but actual good works like feeding the poor), "but if I have not love, I am nothing."
And the thing about love is, if the person you love doesn't feel loved, then you might as well not love them. It benefits no one, if your loved one feels unloved.
The next world may exist, but this one does exist. Anti-gay Christians are hurting people in this world, in the hopes of helping them in the next one (at best). But there may not be a next one.
In my research, I have found only two instances in scripture where Jesus actually told people to stop sinning. In one, he had just healed a man of chronic illness. In the other, he had just saved a sinful woman's life. He earned the right to talk about other people's sin, even though scripture says he was sinless himself. How many LGBT people can say that an anti-gay Christian saved their life, or made their lives better in a very significant way?
Jesus even told a man (the one lowered in from the roof) that his sins were forgiven, before the man had even said anything about repenting. He told sinners that "your faith has saved you," and "your faith has made you well." He did not even say "your repentance has saved you."
Jesus was not as "hard on sin" (and by that, they always mean the sins of others, never their own!) as some Christians want to think. The "goats" were condemned for their unkindness, the virgins for their unreadiness, the Pharisees for their hypocrisy--but as far as I can recall, no one was condemned for their actual sin. Jesus also said that "prostitutes and sinners will enter the kingdom of heaven before you," to the religious leaders. He did not say "repentant prostitutes and sinners..."
And if he was talking constantly about other people's sins, I'm pretty sure he wouldn't have gotten invited to parties with sinners, much less had a great following among them.
I don't think Jesus would be like the people who talk about other people's sins (though never their own), and that's why I can think of myself as more "Christian" than them. If I'm wrong, then at least I tried to love people, and not hurt them in this life--which is the only life we are really guaranteed.
Like I said, the next world may exist, but this one does exist. So we shouldn't be hurting each other in this one, just because of our fear of the next one.
The Lesbian Coworker
When I was about fourteen, my mother and I were both evangelicals (and had pretty much identical beliefs, because we talked endlessly about Christianity, hypocrisy, etc). She got a new job, right around the time that Massachusetts was in the headlines for issuing marriage licenses to gay couples. You can probably predict how we felt about that.
One of my mother's new coworkers was a lesbian. "She has a 'wife,'" my mother told me, saying "wife" in a slightly different way than the other words.
This coworker, whom I will call Connie, had a hard time of it, because most of the people in that office, including the boss and the boss's boss, were evangelical Christians. I remember being surprised to learn that fact, at the time, since this was an office of the local Native American tribe. Even then, it struck me as strange that those with heavily Native American bloodlines apparently did not embrace the spiritual traditions of their culture. But I had been taught that Christianity was always a good thing, so I didn't think much about that.
From what I heard, Connie's lesbianism came up relatively often. My mom told the story of the office receptionist (a Christian, of course) remarking in one such conversation, "Yeah, I like you, Connie, and you're the first one of those I've met."
"'One of those'?" I repeated, astonished. Even then, I knew that that was most definitely the wrong way to put it.
"Yeah, 'one of those'!" my mom laughed. Though remembering the story now, it makes me cringe, as it probably now would for my mom. Ugh.
My mom brought black licorice candy to work one day, offering it to her coworkers. All of them declined it, hated it, declaring their love for "red licorice." (One of my biggest pet peeves, as "red licorice" does not occur in nature--come on, people, we don't have to say "white vanilla" or talk about "brown vanilla" when we really mean chocolate; say strawberry, for goodness' sake, that's what you really like!).
"Is that black licorice?" Connie asked, walking by. "Can I have some? I love black licorice!" she explained, taking some.
"You like black licorice?" my mom asked. "Connie, you're my kind of woman!" she declared, throwing an arm around her and squeezing.
Another time, my mother and I were going somewhere, and I asked her why I had to move the passenger seat up in her car.
"Connie was sitting there, today. She's really tall. We were carpooling, since we both come from the same direction for work," she answered.
My mom recounted how Connie told her of their boss saying, "I don't approve of your lifestyle," and then, upon learning that Connie's wife was trying to get pregnant, "'she said she would pray for me, and I found that highly offensive!'"
"Yeah, I can see why it would be offensive," my mom had replied. "I hope you and Catherine do get pregnant."
I was a little surprised that my mom had said these things.
"I do hope they get pregnant," she explained, "because they have something missing in their lives, and they think a baby would help, but then when they get a baby, they'll still have something missing, you know what I mean?"
I knew what she meant. It amazes me, now, to think that we actually thought this way. We thought it would be best for her if she was dissatisfied in life.
A few months later, Connie was fired. Her position was supposedly cut.
"I hope she consults a lawyer," my mom said. "If she thinks it was because she was a lesbian, she could get compensated for that."
I thought it was because of that, and I still do. I didn't think it was fair, though I must admit that because I believed she was sinning, at the time, that I don't now think I had enough empathy.
We live in one of the relatively few states (Oregon) where employers are not allowed to discriminate based on sexual orientation. But how do you prove that it was because of that? The only practical effect of the law is that employers have to find an acceptable excuse, and can't mention sexual orientation.
And what to do when it's another government--a Native American tribe--and essentially another country? Is the fact that they receive federal funding sufficient grounds to make them not discriminate? Or are they truly sovereign? I have so many questions, but I'm afraid to bother the Lambda Legal people about something that happened ten years ago and doesn't affect me personally.
Connie didn't pursue legal action, as far as I know.
A lot has changed in ten years, with my mom and me, too. I am glad that we're both out of that desperate, evangelical Christian funk. My mom says she wished that she had saved her money and not sent me to Christian school in the early years. She has even said that if she could sue them and get her money back, she would do it!
Even though I knew that that school was full of unhappy hypocrites, the effects of five years at that "normal," mainstream, Protestant Christian school made me miserable for years afterward. I know I would have loved to embrace LGBTQ rights, if I wasn't so worried about getting close to God and not going to hell for agreeing with "sin." I was uneasy about a lot of things, in those days.
A lot has changed in ten years, with a small majority (about two-thirds) of Americans now being for marriage equality (from what I've read), so I know that my mother and I were not the only ones who have changed. I can only hope that this trend continues, because other than what's right, I know firsthand the fear that people who are against marriage equality (and other LGBTQ rights) feel--fear that God will be angry and forsake or punish America, fear that everything will change and they won't know how to react to it, fear that they will end up agreeing with LGBTQ people and then go to hell for it, etc.
I wish I could lighten people's burdens on this subject (for so many reasons!), but when people are fearing for their souls, they are not going to listen to even fellow believers, at least not at first. (I have to fight them any way I can, though, when I encounter them, because I don't want them to hurt other people.) For some people, the only thing that works, if anything actually will work, is time.
Or, well, um...death. Which I suppose is a side effect of time...
One of my mother's new coworkers was a lesbian. "She has a 'wife,'" my mother told me, saying "wife" in a slightly different way than the other words.
This coworker, whom I will call Connie, had a hard time of it, because most of the people in that office, including the boss and the boss's boss, were evangelical Christians. I remember being surprised to learn that fact, at the time, since this was an office of the local Native American tribe. Even then, it struck me as strange that those with heavily Native American bloodlines apparently did not embrace the spiritual traditions of their culture. But I had been taught that Christianity was always a good thing, so I didn't think much about that.
From what I heard, Connie's lesbianism came up relatively often. My mom told the story of the office receptionist (a Christian, of course) remarking in one such conversation, "Yeah, I like you, Connie, and you're the first one of those I've met."
"'One of those'?" I repeated, astonished. Even then, I knew that that was most definitely the wrong way to put it.
"Yeah, 'one of those'!" my mom laughed. Though remembering the story now, it makes me cringe, as it probably now would for my mom. Ugh.
My mom brought black licorice candy to work one day, offering it to her coworkers. All of them declined it, hated it, declaring their love for "red licorice." (One of my biggest pet peeves, as "red licorice" does not occur in nature--come on, people, we don't have to say "white vanilla" or talk about "brown vanilla" when we really mean chocolate; say strawberry, for goodness' sake, that's what you really like!).
"Is that black licorice?" Connie asked, walking by. "Can I have some? I love black licorice!" she explained, taking some.
"You like black licorice?" my mom asked. "Connie, you're my kind of woman!" she declared, throwing an arm around her and squeezing.
Another time, my mother and I were going somewhere, and I asked her why I had to move the passenger seat up in her car.
"Connie was sitting there, today. She's really tall. We were carpooling, since we both come from the same direction for work," she answered.
My mom recounted how Connie told her of their boss saying, "I don't approve of your lifestyle," and then, upon learning that Connie's wife was trying to get pregnant, "'she said she would pray for me, and I found that highly offensive!'"
"Yeah, I can see why it would be offensive," my mom had replied. "I hope you and Catherine do get pregnant."
I was a little surprised that my mom had said these things.
"I do hope they get pregnant," she explained, "because they have something missing in their lives, and they think a baby would help, but then when they get a baby, they'll still have something missing, you know what I mean?"
I knew what she meant. It amazes me, now, to think that we actually thought this way. We thought it would be best for her if she was dissatisfied in life.
A few months later, Connie was fired. Her position was supposedly cut.
"I hope she consults a lawyer," my mom said. "If she thinks it was because she was a lesbian, she could get compensated for that."
I thought it was because of that, and I still do. I didn't think it was fair, though I must admit that because I believed she was sinning, at the time, that I don't now think I had enough empathy.
We live in one of the relatively few states (Oregon) where employers are not allowed to discriminate based on sexual orientation. But how do you prove that it was because of that? The only practical effect of the law is that employers have to find an acceptable excuse, and can't mention sexual orientation.
And what to do when it's another government--a Native American tribe--and essentially another country? Is the fact that they receive federal funding sufficient grounds to make them not discriminate? Or are they truly sovereign? I have so many questions, but I'm afraid to bother the Lambda Legal people about something that happened ten years ago and doesn't affect me personally.
Connie didn't pursue legal action, as far as I know.
A lot has changed in ten years, with my mom and me, too. I am glad that we're both out of that desperate, evangelical Christian funk. My mom says she wished that she had saved her money and not sent me to Christian school in the early years. She has even said that if she could sue them and get her money back, she would do it!
Even though I knew that that school was full of unhappy hypocrites, the effects of five years at that "normal," mainstream, Protestant Christian school made me miserable for years afterward. I know I would have loved to embrace LGBTQ rights, if I wasn't so worried about getting close to God and not going to hell for agreeing with "sin." I was uneasy about a lot of things, in those days.
A lot has changed in ten years, with a small majority (about two-thirds) of Americans now being for marriage equality (from what I've read), so I know that my mother and I were not the only ones who have changed. I can only hope that this trend continues, because other than what's right, I know firsthand the fear that people who are against marriage equality (and other LGBTQ rights) feel--fear that God will be angry and forsake or punish America, fear that everything will change and they won't know how to react to it, fear that they will end up agreeing with LGBTQ people and then go to hell for it, etc.
I wish I could lighten people's burdens on this subject (for so many reasons!), but when people are fearing for their souls, they are not going to listen to even fellow believers, at least not at first. (I have to fight them any way I can, though, when I encounter them, because I don't want them to hurt other people.) For some people, the only thing that works, if anything actually will work, is time.
Or, well, um...death. Which I suppose is a side effect of time...
My Family
This is an old post, that I forgot to publish. It was written right after the shooting at my school, Umpqua Community College. It's just some miscellaneous thoughts about my evangelical relatives.
At a family reunion recently, I sat on the floor, and my second cousin's two-year-old grandson started sharing his grapes with me--literally, the same grapes. He was biting grapes in half and putting the pieces directly into my mouth. It brought him such apparent joy to feed the hungry, that I figured I could take immune system supplements later. He kept saying, "apple, apple," while doing it. That's close enough, I guess.
My cousin, whom I call Blue-Butt, was there.
"Hey, Blue!" I almost said, excitedly, "You know your favorite teacher's getting married?! He just proposed to his boyfriend a few days ago--on the boyfriend's birthday!"
I almost said this, because I'm now friends with his favorite high school teacher on Facebook. But then I remembered that I was neck-deep in evangelicals sharing my DNA, so I decided not to say anything. At least not then.
I had a terrifying nightmare the other night, probably because of the recent shooting. I dreamed that my youngest cousin, Red-Butt, had cancer, and wasn't doing anything to get better or start treatments.
"Yeah, I smoke about eight or nine packs of cigarettes a day," he said casually, blowing out a stream of smoke.
I am not sure that that's even possible. Is it physically possible to smoke eight or nine packs of cigarettes a day? It's not like I want to try it.
I woke up terrified, even though Red has never smoked in his life, as far as I know. And the only thing he's done to purposefully harm himself, to my knowledge, was waxing his legs with duct tape and screaming like a little girl to get attention. Twice.
The closest thing he's done to smoking, that I know of, was buy a pack when he turned eighteen and give them to a homeless person. He specifically said that that was what he wanted to do: Buy a pack of cigarettes and give them to a homeless person.
I looked at him closely at the family reunion. He didn't appear to be in ill health. It must have been the shooting that gave me nightmares.
My Late Great Aunt's two daughters were here from another state (I call her my Late Great Aunt because she was really into the end times, and it wouldn't surprise me if she read or watched Hal Lindsey). They inevitably started talking about her literal "last days."
"She was doing that bible study, and they were doing Revelations next. She really wanted to do Revelations. And I was just saying, she doesn't need to do that, because now she's living it. She has all the answers now," one of them said.
Or she could just not know anything anymore, I thought. I hoped I was wrong, somehow, but I found it sad that so many people were counting on an afterlife that may not exist. I was silent, and my extended family does not know that I seriously doubt, at least sometimes, whether there is an afterlife or a god.
"I knew she wouldn't want us to resuscitate her. She had everything planned for her own funeral. She had picked out her favorite hymns, and we had a church service right there. We had an alter call, because that's what she would have wanted. Three people came to the Lord at that service. You should watch the DVD," my relative went on.
It felt weird, hearing about something that would have warmed my heart twelve years ago, but which I now found tragic. Why would anyone need to "come to the Lord" unless they were believed to be in danger of hell? My LGA had the sunniest disposition, and maybe the fewest reasons to have one, of anyone I had ever met.
I guess she never thought of the implications of her scary End Times/hellfire-and-brimstone beliefs. Either that, or the thought of other people perishing in hell just didn't drag her down. I guess you've always got to look on the positive side of things.
I feel rather snarky, when thinking about that, but I really do love her. She was so very nice. And I hope she's at peace, and living on, somehow. But sometimes, my family makes me sad, when they don't wish to fight for the one life they know they have. I guess that's what they've got me for, to nag them. That's something, I guess.
At a family reunion recently, I sat on the floor, and my second cousin's two-year-old grandson started sharing his grapes with me--literally, the same grapes. He was biting grapes in half and putting the pieces directly into my mouth. It brought him such apparent joy to feed the hungry, that I figured I could take immune system supplements later. He kept saying, "apple, apple," while doing it. That's close enough, I guess.
My cousin, whom I call Blue-Butt, was there.
"Hey, Blue!" I almost said, excitedly, "You know your favorite teacher's getting married?! He just proposed to his boyfriend a few days ago--on the boyfriend's birthday!"
I almost said this, because I'm now friends with his favorite high school teacher on Facebook. But then I remembered that I was neck-deep in evangelicals sharing my DNA, so I decided not to say anything. At least not then.
I had a terrifying nightmare the other night, probably because of the recent shooting. I dreamed that my youngest cousin, Red-Butt, had cancer, and wasn't doing anything to get better or start treatments.
"Yeah, I smoke about eight or nine packs of cigarettes a day," he said casually, blowing out a stream of smoke.
I am not sure that that's even possible. Is it physically possible to smoke eight or nine packs of cigarettes a day? It's not like I want to try it.
I woke up terrified, even though Red has never smoked in his life, as far as I know. And the only thing he's done to purposefully harm himself, to my knowledge, was waxing his legs with duct tape and screaming like a little girl to get attention. Twice.
The closest thing he's done to smoking, that I know of, was buy a pack when he turned eighteen and give them to a homeless person. He specifically said that that was what he wanted to do: Buy a pack of cigarettes and give them to a homeless person.
I looked at him closely at the family reunion. He didn't appear to be in ill health. It must have been the shooting that gave me nightmares.
My Late Great Aunt's two daughters were here from another state (I call her my Late Great Aunt because she was really into the end times, and it wouldn't surprise me if she read or watched Hal Lindsey). They inevitably started talking about her literal "last days."
"She was doing that bible study, and they were doing Revelations next. She really wanted to do Revelations. And I was just saying, she doesn't need to do that, because now she's living it. She has all the answers now," one of them said.
Or she could just not know anything anymore, I thought. I hoped I was wrong, somehow, but I found it sad that so many people were counting on an afterlife that may not exist. I was silent, and my extended family does not know that I seriously doubt, at least sometimes, whether there is an afterlife or a god.
"I knew she wouldn't want us to resuscitate her. She had everything planned for her own funeral. She had picked out her favorite hymns, and we had a church service right there. We had an alter call, because that's what she would have wanted. Three people came to the Lord at that service. You should watch the DVD," my relative went on.
It felt weird, hearing about something that would have warmed my heart twelve years ago, but which I now found tragic. Why would anyone need to "come to the Lord" unless they were believed to be in danger of hell? My LGA had the sunniest disposition, and maybe the fewest reasons to have one, of anyone I had ever met.
I guess she never thought of the implications of her scary End Times/hellfire-and-brimstone beliefs. Either that, or the thought of other people perishing in hell just didn't drag her down. I guess you've always got to look on the positive side of things.
I feel rather snarky, when thinking about that, but I really do love her. She was so very nice. And I hope she's at peace, and living on, somehow. But sometimes, my family makes me sad, when they don't wish to fight for the one life they know they have. I guess that's what they've got me for, to nag them. That's something, I guess.
The Other Question Homophobes Don't Want To Answer
A few weeks ago, I talked about homophobic Christians who wanted to sentence gay people to a lifetime of loneliness and celibacy, while they themselves wanted marriage and sex. I found out that they don't like it when I say, "If it bothers you that gay people do not commit to lifelong celibacy, then I invite you to lead by example."
They either try to ignore it and argue other points, in which case I force them to answer me, threatening to stop engaging with them if they don't--or the conversation ends right there! I have never had a homophobic person answer my challenge, unless I forced them to do it. Much less actually commit to lifelong celibacy. One guy threw a fit and left, and another guy in the same conversation quietly dropped out, not wanting what I was serving to his buddy.
But I have recently found yet another question, that is like Homophobe Repellent in a can. And it really surprised me. I thought for sure that it would be a very easy one to answer, even if they were saying, "Yes, of course! But I'm still right!"
But I've trotted it out a few times, and have never gotten a response to it. When I tried to force one guy to answer it, he left, and I haven't heard from him in almost a whole day--very unusual for him. He seems to have left the conversation.
This question is, "Are you open to God's leading, in case you are wrong on this issue?"
I thought this would be simple, a no-brainer. I always said, when arguing "as" a gay Christian (and yes, I know this blog's web address has the word "atheist" in the title, but it's complicated, and I don't feel like I'm lying), "I am open to God's leading, if I am wrong. Are YOU open to God's leading, in case you are wrong?"
And apparently, they are not.
Now, I honestly don't know what I would do, if I found out God was in fact anti-gay. But I think that would be morally wrong, no matter who did it. It is wrong to throw people in hell for something that harms no one and actually brings a lot of love and joy to millions of people--including the children who would not exist (surrogates) or not have a home otherwise (adoption).
I know that the "right" thing would be to defy God, even if it meant hell. But I don't know what I'd actually do. But regardless of that conflict, I do want to know the truth, whatever it is.
And these people apparently don't. I get no answer at all, not even one in which they say yes, but then tell me how right they are.
I hope that this is a good sign. I hope that this means that I'm making them think. But I can't know for sure.
I like to say, "If you think you can't be wrong, then you might as well call yourself God and worship yourself." No one is perfect but God, after all. I've never gotten any response to this statement, either.
I'm going to try to figure out why they don't answer me. But how to do that? They may not give me an honest answer, or any answer. And I'm not sure I should press it, if I am making them think.
When I was trying so hard to get close to God, I prayed almost constantly, "God, just show me the truth, whatever it is." I always liked to ask, "What if God/the bible/Christianity/Jesus is actually like this...?" I always wondered what pastors or evangelicals got wrong, and if they were wrong on big and small issues. I thought it was terrible to not try to find out whatever was the truth, in spite of your own traditions and biases.
I guess that was rare. Of course I thought I could be sinning by asking too many questions, but I hoped God would understand that I was just trying to find the truth.
I'm still just trying to find the truth, and I will never stop searching, no matter how certain I feel that I've found it. Life is a constant learning process, and if you don't learn, you will stagnate. I think that's true of one's spiritual life as well, if one has a spiritual life.
And I trust that if God is real, and he or she is good, that they will know that I'm just trying to find the truth, and to love others and not hurt them. I trust God more than most conservative Christians I've encountered, in fact. :)
They either try to ignore it and argue other points, in which case I force them to answer me, threatening to stop engaging with them if they don't--or the conversation ends right there! I have never had a homophobic person answer my challenge, unless I forced them to do it. Much less actually commit to lifelong celibacy. One guy threw a fit and left, and another guy in the same conversation quietly dropped out, not wanting what I was serving to his buddy.
But I have recently found yet another question, that is like Homophobe Repellent in a can. And it really surprised me. I thought for sure that it would be a very easy one to answer, even if they were saying, "Yes, of course! But I'm still right!"
But I've trotted it out a few times, and have never gotten a response to it. When I tried to force one guy to answer it, he left, and I haven't heard from him in almost a whole day--very unusual for him. He seems to have left the conversation.
This question is, "Are you open to God's leading, in case you are wrong on this issue?"
I thought this would be simple, a no-brainer. I always said, when arguing "as" a gay Christian (and yes, I know this blog's web address has the word "atheist" in the title, but it's complicated, and I don't feel like I'm lying), "I am open to God's leading, if I am wrong. Are YOU open to God's leading, in case you are wrong?"
And apparently, they are not.
Now, I honestly don't know what I would do, if I found out God was in fact anti-gay. But I think that would be morally wrong, no matter who did it. It is wrong to throw people in hell for something that harms no one and actually brings a lot of love and joy to millions of people--including the children who would not exist (surrogates) or not have a home otherwise (adoption).
I know that the "right" thing would be to defy God, even if it meant hell. But I don't know what I'd actually do. But regardless of that conflict, I do want to know the truth, whatever it is.
And these people apparently don't. I get no answer at all, not even one in which they say yes, but then tell me how right they are.
I hope that this is a good sign. I hope that this means that I'm making them think. But I can't know for sure.
I like to say, "If you think you can't be wrong, then you might as well call yourself God and worship yourself." No one is perfect but God, after all. I've never gotten any response to this statement, either.
I'm going to try to figure out why they don't answer me. But how to do that? They may not give me an honest answer, or any answer. And I'm not sure I should press it, if I am making them think.
When I was trying so hard to get close to God, I prayed almost constantly, "God, just show me the truth, whatever it is." I always liked to ask, "What if God/the bible/Christianity/Jesus is actually like this...?" I always wondered what pastors or evangelicals got wrong, and if they were wrong on big and small issues. I thought it was terrible to not try to find out whatever was the truth, in spite of your own traditions and biases.
I guess that was rare. Of course I thought I could be sinning by asking too many questions, but I hoped God would understand that I was just trying to find the truth.
I'm still just trying to find the truth, and I will never stop searching, no matter how certain I feel that I've found it. Life is a constant learning process, and if you don't learn, you will stagnate. I think that's true of one's spiritual life as well, if one has a spiritual life.
And I trust that if God is real, and he or she is good, that they will know that I'm just trying to find the truth, and to love others and not hurt them. I trust God more than most conservative Christians I've encountered, in fact. :)
The Rapture: If LaHaye Reads The Scriptures Wrong, You're Screwed
My mom related a conversation she had had once with a cousin of hers, who had a church softball game the next day.
"What are you going to do if it's rained out?" my mom asked.
"I'm just believing that it's not going to be!" she answered determinedly.
"Oh, boy!" I responded, when told that story. "That's her contingency plan? She would so much fun at the end of the world!"
"I'm just believing it's not going to happen!" my mom mimicked.
So many Christians do this all the time, thinking that their faith is going to thwart an all-powerful God's plan. It's almost like witchcraft, trying to use God to influence things in your favor, without even asking her. And if they do this for the little things, why wouldn't they do this for the big things?
The thing is, with the End Times, some people believe that the Rapture will happen in the middle of the seven-year tribulation, and some people (like myself, IF there is an End Times, which is a whole other issue) believe that there is no Rapture, that scripture doesn't talk that clearly about a Rapture (after all, Jesus mentions dead bodies and vultures and stuff too).
So, if Tim LaHaye of the Left Behind series, or your other favorite prophecy person, is wrong, and you've made no contingency plans for a late Rapture or no Rapture, then you're screwed. You're also screwed, if one of their complicated "taking the bible literally" charts has a misprint. (Like the Mark Twain quote, that if you read self-help books you could die from a misprint.)
But, I guess you can simply "believe" that the End Times won't happen to you. I'm sure that will keep God's inevitable End Times plans, that he has literally had worked out since before the beginning of time...at bay. :)
And heck, if LaHaye, or whoever else you like, can't possibly be wrong, then why not just cut out the middleman? Just call LaHaye God and worship him. After all, you have to be perfect, in order to never be wrong, and most Christians believe that only God can be perfect.
But that's just my smarmy rant. Take it for what you will. :)
"What are you going to do if it's rained out?" my mom asked.
"I'm just believing that it's not going to be!" she answered determinedly.
"Oh, boy!" I responded, when told that story. "That's her contingency plan? She would so much fun at the end of the world!"
"I'm just believing it's not going to happen!" my mom mimicked.
So many Christians do this all the time, thinking that their faith is going to thwart an all-powerful God's plan. It's almost like witchcraft, trying to use God to influence things in your favor, without even asking her. And if they do this for the little things, why wouldn't they do this for the big things?
The thing is, with the End Times, some people believe that the Rapture will happen in the middle of the seven-year tribulation, and some people (like myself, IF there is an End Times, which is a whole other issue) believe that there is no Rapture, that scripture doesn't talk that clearly about a Rapture (after all, Jesus mentions dead bodies and vultures and stuff too).
So, if Tim LaHaye of the Left Behind series, or your other favorite prophecy person, is wrong, and you've made no contingency plans for a late Rapture or no Rapture, then you're screwed. You're also screwed, if one of their complicated "taking the bible literally" charts has a misprint. (Like the Mark Twain quote, that if you read self-help books you could die from a misprint.)
But, I guess you can simply "believe" that the End Times won't happen to you. I'm sure that will keep God's inevitable End Times plans, that he has literally had worked out since before the beginning of time...at bay. :)
And heck, if LaHaye, or whoever else you like, can't possibly be wrong, then why not just cut out the middleman? Just call LaHaye God and worship him. After all, you have to be perfect, in order to never be wrong, and most Christians believe that only God can be perfect.
But that's just my smarmy rant. Take it for what you will. :)
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