The Masturbating Banana Doesn't Like Me

 I once read a joke where a cucumber, and pickle, and a penis were talking about how terrible their lives all were.
"Every time I become big, fat, and juicy, they cut me up and put me in a salad," the cucumber moaned.
"That's nothing--every time I become big, fat, and juicy, they put me in vinegar and put me in a jar," the pickle said.
The penis glared at them both bitterly. "You guys have it easy!" he said. "Every time I get big, fat, and juicy, they stick a rubber tarp over my head, put me in a dark room, and bang my head against the wall until I throw up and pass out!"

So that's what I thought of when someone online named BreathlessBanana decided to be mean to me. It made me laugh, wondering how breathless their banana was!
This person made a rather confusing comment on the epilogue for my "Buzz Vs. Woody" storyline (on my Deviant Art page here), and I'm still trying to figure out their logic behind it. I mentioned that I was doing a sequel, with Evil Emperor Zurg's ex-wife (the only person in the galaxy who's scarier than him!), and BB said this:

"You say sequel like you put up a full story that has 100,000 fans...
I think you mean "Chapter two"

Also, OOC, poorly written, wtf."


So...apparently, I'm supposed to "earn" the title of "sequel" by getting 100,000 fans? I've never heard of that idea.
She obviously didn't realize that I had 62 previous short chapters, which was why it was called an "epilogue." And most of all, that I can call my stories whatever I damn well please! :) I'm now working on my "Epic Blockbuster Earth-Shattering Majestic-As-FUCK Sequel."
And that I can be as arrogant or stuck up as I want to be, about my own story, especially if it's not arrogance at the expense of others. I wrote it in such a way that it is the perfect story for someone who shares my taste. Probably no one will share my taste exactly, but I think it's damn good, even if I'm the only one in the world who enjoys it (which I'm apparently not, since a few people added chapters to their Favorites lists).

Deviant Art, and other sites on the internet, are supposed to be places where people can just relax, enjoy themselves, and not have to worry about whether something is "well-written" or not. I have read fan fiction stories where the writer obviously is still learning English, or where it is written by a native speaker but is full of typos, and I have loved them! The content of the story is what matters, to me.
And I do try to remove as many typos as I can, in my own stories. But some people are still new to writing, or drawing, etc, and they should still have a chance to get their work out there. And it can still be enjoyed, even if it's "poorly" drawn or written.
In a similar vein, some Youtube channels have videos of people singing terribly. And yet, who cares? They still have a right to sing, and enjoy singing! :) And others can enjoy their progress, or even if there's no progress, their passion for singing.
If you wait until your writing, singing, or art is "good enough" to get it out there, it will NEVER get out there! PukingPlaintain's comment, ironically, reminded me that I just need to relax and not worry about perfection. I don't want to end up like her--whether I would treat myself this way, or others!

I remember taking a Figure Drawing (human body) class about two years ago, when I first started this blog. I went to the haunted Umpqua Community College at the time, as it was well before the shooting. I remember one of my classmates, an older woman about in her mid-thirties, I would say. She didn't seem very confident at all. And I once overheard her tell our teacher, "I'm afraid to draw that. I'm afraid it won't be any good."
That was exactly how I felt, with drawing, and how I still feel, sometimes. I remember being shocked, once, reading someone describe drawing as "relaxing," since it was so stressful for me! :)
But my art teacher, another woman about the same age as her non-confident student, said, "Why? It's just paper! The worst thing that's going to happen is that you'll make it ugly!"
And that always stuck in my memory. It's just paper. Or it's just a blog post or story on the internet. Or it's just a video. The worst thing that can possibly happen is that you make it ugly, poorly written, poorly sung, or not what you had in mind when you started it.
I remember that often. And it helps me to banish my perfectionist tendencies, when they give me grief about something. It's just...fill-in-the-blank.

I remember, also, that I used to wish I had a mental disability, because then I would be able to be easy on myself, if I couldn't do something very well.
Now, that wasn't very sensitive--but I still remind myself that, if I was disabled somehow, I would know to be easy on myself, and love myself, no matter how "bad" the things I tried were. If I was disabled, physically or mentally, I would just love my efforts. So why not just love my efforts, right now?

 There are going to be some people who seem more naturally gifted than me, or who do it easier or "better." But that doesn't make me worse. That doesn't mean that I don't have considerable talent or potential. And most of all, it doesn't make my contributions any less valuable or worthy.
Society is understanding of people who have disabilities, and rightfully so. But it's harsher on people who are not disabled, or not visibly so. If a comedian is a beginner, and still learning about timing and jokes, then they "suck" and should not be in comedy! If a singer is a beginner, and their voice is untrained, then they are screechy and awful and should never sing again. (Notice that THEY are considered screechy and awful--not their singing or sometimes even their voices.)
People don't say that someone is a beginning, out of practice, or doesn't draw in a style they like--they say that the artist "draws terribly." And yet if they knew that the artist had no arms and was drawing with their feet, or had a pencil in their mouth, it wouldn't be "poorly drawn." It would be great, for what the artist was capable of, especially at the beginning of having to draw like that.
People have differing abilities, whether they are disabled or not. And everyone should have the right to simply enjoy themselves. And perhaps their abilities will improve. But even if they don't--who cares? Get your work out there, tell people you are a beginner, or disabled, or whatever, and you will find people who are supportive, who encourage you. Some people will be haters, but block them, keep doing your thing, and get as far as you can with it! If you can't find anyone to be encouraging to you, then encourage and love yourself. (And you can also leave a comment below, and I will be encouraging to you, because any effort should be celebrated, not torn down!)
Remember, this is your hobby! You should have fun with it, not be worried about performance!

That comment above has just reminded me that, now more than ever, I need to not worry about whether something is good or bad, and just have fun or enjoy writing it. I don't want to end up like this person! I don't want to feel like my story or my writing is unworthy somehow, or inferior, just because it's not famous or other people think it's poorly written. Other people may simply have not heard of me, or they simply may have a different taste in writing, or not care for the subjects I like to write about (or be more picky about "imperfections" than I am, with my passion). And none of that is my fault, either. I don't want to end up like this person, measuring my success and self-worth by what others think of me, or my writing--even if they're A LOT of others!

So the night that I read that comment, I pitched an article to a site I've always wanted to write for, Cracked.com. And if it doesn't get accepted there, then it will be published here. The article is "6 Things LGBT People Wish Christians Knew About Them." (I also have two fan theories that I will post here, if they don't get accepted there. They want theories to be convincing, but I like theories that are creepy or make the story better, whether they're convincing to others or not.)
I thought at first that my LGBT article idea would be too controversial for Cracked--but I have to try! I have to try, and I have to simply enjoy the process of trying, every step of the way.

It's vitally important that I not become another Masturbating Banana, judging myself and others very harshly--for something that is a mere hobby!  Something that should be fun, that should bring joy and purpose to the creator's life--and hopefully, joy to those that share her taste.
And Wanking 'Nanner, apparently, judges her art based on how many fans she has, or some whim of her inner critic. I must avoid becoming like her, at all costs!
So I guess it was good, in the end, that she said that, because I was reminded of exactly what I don't want to be, and I've redoubled my efforts to be the exact opposite of that. I'm not going to thank her, because she's being awful, but I'm glad to know what I don't want to be. I now have the living embodiment of my perfectionist tendencies--and she can kiss my ass. Because I'm going to enjoy my life, and I can't enjoy it fully unless I get all of my work out there. :)

(And one more thing: I would suggest that anyone who is curious whether my story is "poorly written" or not, should read the story here, and judge for themselves. My work speaks for itself, and I am still just as proud of it as ever.)

How To Deal With Bigots And Awful People, Without Feeling Awful

I have a very kind gay Christian friend, whose husband recently shared on Facebook that an old work colleague had recently contacted him to remember the good times she had had working with him (my mom says this was probably a ruse, since this woman had probably heard he was divorced and thought he was newly single and ready to Christian mingle). He told her all that was going on his life. Hours later, she contacted him again, saying that her Christian witness was damaged if she didn't "call you out on your lifestyle."
He went on:

With all the love and gentleness I could muster, I explained to her that being gay isn't a choice. That for many years I tried to pray away the gay. That I had lost my biological family because they can't condone my lifestyle either. And that what had damaged her witness with me was that she felt the need to change from loving me to feeling the need to call me out as a sinner.
The church in general, and evangelical Christians in particular, have no idea how much they hurt LGBT people!


 I don't know that I fully agree with him. I think for the most part, the church knows how much they hurt LGBT people. But they think their loving God makes them.
When I come across these people (though I try to avoid them, whenever possible), I find myself saying things like, "I don't need your permission to be a Christian or have a relationship with God." And, "If it bothers you that gay people do not commit to lifelong celibacy, then I invite you to lead by example."

But those things are only what I say to other people. What matters even more, is what I say to myself.
There are negative messages coming from these people, to me. So I have to counteract them with positive messages, from me. I have to be on my own side, even if the awful people are not.
Through gathering signatures for my atheist club at school (when I thought of myself as an atheist), and finding a way to combat nervousness, I learned how to say the same thing to myself, over and over again in my mind. This skill has come in handy, in more ways than one.
So I have a secret weapon, to build myself up, when the bullies and awful people wish to tear me down and make me doubt myself. And the best part is, these people don't even know that I'm using it. They don't even know that I have it--maybe they don't even know that it exists. If you yourself are in a bad situation, you can use this to combat the negative messages that you are receiving, and regain your confidence and love of yourself.
My secret weapon (or rather, my secret shield) is this: I say to myself, over and over again in my own mind, "I love you AJ, I love you AJ, I love you AJ," constantly, dozens of times, as many times as I need to, in order to feel better.
I did share what I did, with my friend quoted above, and I hope it helped. It certainly has helped me.
It puts a barrier between myself and others. It reminds me that I am on my own side, even if they aren't.
Sometimes when I'm lying in bed, especially--when I have no distractions--I use this technique. I don't just use the one phrase, either.

"God is glad, he made me gay," I remind myself.
"Everything will be all right."
"I did everything I could for him," when thinking about my late cat, and feeling guilty.
"It's a game," when thinking about work, and feeling unproductive.
And always, "I love you AJ, I love you AJ, I love you AJ," when I don't feel I am being treated with love, by others.
I'm sure you can think of other things, to use for yourself.

I do this when I'm not even being judged, too. Any time I need to feel better, I do this. And it's made me feel a lot better.
I try to avoid negative statements, such as "They don't matter," because I'm afraid my subconscious brain will only understand positive statements, and think that they do matter. But anything else that helps, I use that (because I think that if God is good, then he has no problem with LGBT people--and if he does have a problem, then he's not good--and not to be flippant, but in that case, I don't want to know him anyway). And in this one life I know I have, I want to love myself, and be completely at peace with myself. And if I have to believe something, then it's going to be that I am just fine the way I am.

"I'm just fine, the way I am. I'm just fine, the way I am. I'm just fine, the way I am..."

Christians (And Atheists) Don't Trust Themselves

I've heard some atheists say before that, if they had a spiritual experience, they would assume that they were hallucinating or that they had lost their minds. This strikes me as strange, since I spent so much of my life suppressing my own instincts and gut feelings, because I was afraid of going to hell and being a bad person/Christian. When people get free of that, wouldn't they want to finally trust themselves?
Other people say that it's not logical to go with your own experiences, over what other people tell you is logical or correct. Just like fundamentalist Christians tell you that you can't trust your own instincts about right and wrong, over what the bible apparently says.
I have seen some people denigrate the spiritual experience of a nice gay universalist Christian friend of mine, who said that he had a vision of Christ on the cross and that that's when he became truly born again after being a "wet Baptist" all his life. I came to his defense, even though I considered myself an atheist at the time, because what else is he supposed to go on, than his own experiences? He says that everyone will eventually have some kind of experience like that, and be as certain as him--and so far, I am not as certain as him and have not had any spiritual experiences. He may very well be wrong--but that doesn't mean that he's wrong to trust his own instincts and experiences.
 Why would atheists not trust their own instincts? After all, I became an atheist to get away from this crap. I'm not saying it's wrong to think that a "spiritual experience" was not in fact spiritual, but automatically assuming, in spite of your own instincts, is.
I was so miserable, for so many years, because I thought I was bound to a "literal" interpretation of the bible, and that if I wanted to see women being pastors or gays getting married, that I would literally burn for it. I went against my own instincts about rightness and justice, and I hated it! I was betraying my own conscience, because of my fears.
I later found out that biblical scholars have a few theories for how God inspired the bible, and that some allowed for imperfect human or cultural influence. That was such a relief, when I read that, in a Christian school textbook of all places! I was free! I couldn't believe that I didn't have to hurt others because of whom they loved, or limit my own potential just because of my vagina. It was almost too good to be true, but I had been a prisoner to fundamentalism so long, that I jumped at the chance to be free from it. I could let God, or my God-given conscience, guide me directly, even about the bible. I can't stress enough how freeing it was to learn that I didn't have to hurt other people, or myself, for God.
What the atheists do, does not come with the terrifying threat of hell, but it is oppressive to me, nonetheless. Why rely on what other people tell you is most likely to be true? I never was much for anti-apologetics arguments, because I could just look at my own life, and know that I had not had the experience of feeling close to God, as I had been promised I would have, if I was born again (which is why I "got saved" so many times, until I sensed a pattern and got tired of the pattern).
I don't consider myself an atheist anymore, at least not very much of one. But atheists other nonbelievers have the potential for freedom, here, and throw it all away. They can be free to trust their own instincts, but some choose to trust what other people tell them is most logical or likely. Why would anyone do that to themselves?
I am so very relieved to get away from fundamentalism and evangelicalism. And sometimes I read articles by LGBT-affirming and universalist Christians, and I think that maybe I can have what I've always wanted. That is the sense of being close to God, and having a relationship with God that brings me joy, and not grief and anxiety about not being a good enough or "real" Christian.
But I don't try very hard to get close to God anymore, if there is someone there. I got free from trying to pray and read the bible even though I was absolutely sick of both activities--and other ways in which I shoved down my true feelings and gave in to the fear which was instilled in me by others all of my life. I don't try to believe or have faith at all, either, because that would not really be believing.
I got free from trying to placate others' versions of God, and I don't want to be a prisoner to other people's logic as well. If I ever do have an apparently spiritual experience, I think I will have a healthy skepticism--unless I believe that it actually is from God, or is likely to be.
I also tell people, sometimes, if they give me crap about not being a "real" Christian, that I don't need their permission to be a Christian, or have a relationship with God. If God has a problem with me, then that supposedly all-powerful being can think of a way to tell me (though if God is in fact unjust to women or LGBT people, for example, then that is a different matter entirely). Until then, I won't allow anyone to tell me anything about God. If I am made by God, then I would say that I am more than worthy of my own trust, because God doesn't make junk!
I just now gained the freedom to trust myself, relatively recently in my life. So I'm not giving that up for anything, whether for "God" or for "logic". I'm going to trust myself, no matter where that leads me. After all, I'm the only one that I know is truly on my side. Those other people are strangers, and are dubious at best. If I don't trust them to visit me at my house, after all, why would I trust them with something as important as God and God's nature?

Say It A Hundred Times

This is how I got the courage to ask total strangers for their signatures.
I was trying to start an atheist/non-religious club at my school, Umpqua Community College, last spring, and the first day I tried to gather signatures, I was very timid, and only got one or two. (No, none of the shooting victims from last October signed my petition for the atheist club, in case anyone was wondering. I do remember seeing some of the victims around the school, though.) I didn't end up starting this club, since I realized that LGBTQ issues were more important to me anyway, but I did pick up a valuable new skill.
I knew that if I had a lot of practice, I would not be timid anymore, so I "practiced." I simply said, over and over in my head, "Would you like to sign a petition for a new student club?" (Since I was very good at saying "Hi," already, and wouldn't need to practice that in order to say it first.)
The idea came to me as I was lying in bed, and I did this whenever my thoughts weren't distracted. The repetition was very comforting after a while.
By the time I was drifting off to sleep, I was thinking things like, "Would you be interested in signing a position for a new stupid club?"
The next day, I drove down to the school, though I had no classes, to get signatures. I practiced constantly in the car, over and over again. But I had the windows down on the freeway, and as soon as I got off and the noise died down, I was just as nervous as before, because my voice was louder, and alone, in my ears. I kept saying it, though my nerves weren't getting any better.
It was a Friday, and so the school was nearly deserted. But I determined to ask the first person I saw--who wasn't wearing a name tag, and wasn't wearing a suit, and looked rather young so that they were definitely a student and not a faculty member, and wasn't in the smoking shelters, because I don't care for cigarette smoke.
I managed to ask two people. The first one, I asked after I had said hi, while she had her back to me and was turning away, which I thought was quite an accomplishment.
"Well, actually, I am religious," she said after my "pitch."
"Oh, okay, thanks anyway," I said, sure I wasn't going to convince someone who was afraid of signing their soul away.
The second person smiled and informed me that she wasn't a student. "Oh, I'm sorry," I laughed, "you must look young!" I shrugged.
"Oh, thank you!" she answered.
I didn't really have an opportunity to ask any more people, though the day was not wasted: I visited two people that I had met at the Safe Space Workshop for LGBTQ allies only a few days before, that had offered to help me both with my new club and on behalf of the Gay-Straight Alliance Club.
I was a little worried that my newfound enthusiasm and confidence would be gone by next week, and told myself the following Tuesday that I just needed to get one more signature that day. Just one, and then I would worry about getting another--if I was up to it. I practiced in the car, and in my head as I walked to the library yet again. I was so scared of my own weakness.
Well, I got eight signatures that day! About half the people I asked signed my petition, and the reactions I got varied widely.
The first person I asked talked in a typical "spiritual" tone and loved the idea, talking about being fascinated by other people's points of view.
"I know, I try to see all sides of things, too," I said, trying to explain that I was the same way--mostly.
"That's what comparative religion is all about," he intoned.
"Yes, I think that...I think there's some truth in almost all belief systems," I answered, though I didn't necessarily think that they were all right about God or even morals.
"I hope you get enough signatures," he said.
"Thank you so much," I smiled.
A few people didn't seem to be atheist or religious, but had no problem signing it. "Of course, signing it doesn't mean that you are an atheist," I made conversation while one girl signed it.
"Oh, yeah," she laughed.
"Yeah, that would be kind of a horrible thing to do to people!" I laughed, trying to make conversation but often feeling like I didn't know what to say, "making them sign a loyalty oath!"
The most common response was, "What kind of club?"
My typical answer was, "Well, it's kind of a support group, actually," then explaining that it was mostly for those who aren't really religious, or have doubts, but have friends and family that are religious--but that all are welcome if they're friendly and respectful, of course.
One girl, when told about the club, shook her head, smiling nervously, and said, "No, thank you!" 
"Oh, okay," I said, waving my hand dismissively (though not dismissive of her), "Thanks anyway."
"Atheists?" one guy asked. "Okay."
He was willing to sign, but didn't seem to understand why having religious family would be hard on some people. "Just, if they're concerned for them, and how do you balance trying to make them feel better, with being yourself..." I explained.
"Oh, okay," he said.
One guy, when told of the club, laughed quietly, rather like a lunatic or movie villain, in my opinion, and walked away, looking at me like I was crazy. A small part of me was hurt and didn't want to be treated that way, but I was rather glad that the (by now) creepy guy didn't stick around to talk.
I must admit that I did wear a very feminine, lacy short dress as a top with pants, sat on the bench outside of the men's room (there was more traffic there--honest!), put on some lipstick, and smiled at any boy who walked by and made eye contact with me. I smoothed my top and tried to be subtly flirty as they were signing it. I don't consider it to be deceptive, though, because I do like guys.
But there was one person I felt completely flustered to interact with, and rather too shy to ask. That person was actually a girl.
She was very bold about saying hi to me, both coming in and going out, and though I had no problem talking to her, I couldn't bring myself to ask--I seemed unable because of my shyness. I had been around bisexual girls enough to know that she was probably flirting with me, herself probably bi or lesbian. Something in her manner said that that was more than just being friendly.
I had had years of practice talking to boys...but not to girls. The thought was scary, especially with her very bold manner. It was scary because a part of me wanted to talk to her, a part of me that I am not very familiar with, still, and have only been aware of for a short time. Though I don't feel negatively about it, I still feel emotional and confused about it. This may take some time to get used to, for me.

My last signature I didn't even ask for. Another girl walked in, stopped, looked right at me, saw my clipboard, and asked, "Do you have something to sign?"
"Oh, yeah, I'm collecting signatures for a new student club."
"Cool," she said, reaching for it. A little taken aback, I repeated my explanation and thanked her as she signed her name.
"See ya," she said as she went into the library to study.
She had acted like she was expecting to see me and my clipboard there. I wondered if anyone had said something to her. Apparently I was getting a rep.
I did get enough signatures, and after only a few days more of this! And I now had the courage, because I had asked that same question hundreds of different times. The repetitive technique of saying it over and over again in my mind has served me well in other areas too, for example boosting my self-esteem when I feel bad about myself (not guilty, but bad for no reason). Once you get in the habit of saying something to yourself, repetitively, the skill doesn't go away, and that's a great thing! :)

When The Bullies Come Along, Just Shake Your Head

There are few people who can bother me nearly as much as my Uncle 'Phobe. Since I was a small child, I have been afraid of him physically. He bullied my cousins and me relentlessly (when he was an adult, older than my own mother), and once lost his temper so intensely that my aunt rushed all of us children out of the room, while I was terrified for my mother's safety. Though no one got physically hurt, I still am affected by that memory to this day.

I think the reason that he bothers me so much is the physical fear of him. Which I still have. He has not been physically threatening in years, decades almost--but he doesn't have to be. The threat is almost there, in the back of my mind, whenever I have to see him. The threat is implied in any situation in which we disagree--whether he means it to be or not.
I don't know how threatening he really is, now, but I know one thing, for certain: I can't completely trust him. If he said tomorrow that he would never harm anybody, I wouldn't completely believe him. I can't afford to, after what I've been through and what I've seen.  If somebody can be "pushed" into something that they wouldn't normally do, then they are not in control of themselves, and therefore can't be trusted to make an accurate assessment of themselves.
My grandfather likes to use the phrase, "forgive and forget," but I can't forget something which threatens my physical or emotional safety. I don't use the word "forgive," either, because even God doesn't forgive people unless they actually apologize for their sins and stop doing them. Are we to be better than God?

This physical fear has made it especially difficult to be myself around him, when my self is something that he vehemently dislikes. I am bisexual, but even years before I knew it, I was for gay rights--or wanted to be, but thought that God would throw me in hell for it.
And I'm sure you can guess why I refer to him as my Uncle 'Phobe.

I have to think about what I will say, before every single family gathering, if he should say some snide little remark about LGBTQ people once again (which has happened considerably often since I have started wearing rainbow pride pins--which was, incidentally, in response to a homophobic comment he had made about how gays should stay in the closet).
I have spent countless hours obsessing over it, because I'm stuck between my desire to be totally honest about who I am and what I believe, and my intense fears, which are not so bad when he's actually around, but which return in force when I have just seen him or am about to see him.
I want to say so many things. I want to be so outspoken. I used to think that I wanted to argue with him, insult him, and win, but now I just want to be completely myself, and say, "I disagree with that," and if I feel like it, "...and here's why..."

I cuss him out, I am bold, when thinking about what to say, but it's quite a different matter when the family gathering draws closer, or when I'm actually there.
I feel like shit when I have to be quiet and deny who I am, and implicitly agree with him or let him get away with saying it and pretending that everyone agrees. He seems to expect to be able to "make" others agree with him, with the implied threat of physical force. Might is right, in his worldview, at least when it comes to others. He wants to be the official spokesman or prophet for the entire family, it seems. And I cannot assume that he will not resort to any means necessary to keep that power over people, especially the "kids" of the family (though they are all over 18).

I had that problem the other night. It felt so good to say the stuff I imagined myself saying, but then I realized that I probably would have trouble saying at least some of it. It was not even that insulting, as far as insults go. ("You don't know what you're talking about," when it came to progressive, pro-gay Christianity, which I don't have a problem with and which I almost feel is my belief sometimes--though my practical side doesn't want to believe in something just because I sometimes like it.)
But I was afraid to say something too confrontational, so I just shook my head. And shook it and shook it and shook it. It felt good, to clear the negativity out of my mind. And it was something I imagined that I could do.
I don't know what I can and can't do in the moment. But communication is not all verbal. It took a lot of courage to wear those pins, at first, but now I do it with only a little nervousness. And when it comes to something I can do, the simpler the better. I don't know if he will listen to even the briefest explanations of why I believe as I do, and I don't know if I can utter them without getting flustered.
But a simple gesture, maybe with a soft, "No...no...no..." is something that I can practice more, and that I can use to help myself gain more confidence eventually for the future.
I don't have to explain things to or convince the bullies. All I have to do is shake my head.
And I've got a lot of shaking to do right now.

Shooting The Moon Can Change Your Life

It's funny how one tiny, seemingly boring change can make such a big difference in your life. A very tiny thing happened to me recently, that made my life better in other, bigger ways.
I got bored the other night, and was wasting time playing solitaire on the computer while watching videos. But I got bored with solitaire, so I tried playing Hearts on the computer instead. The way Hearts works is, you try on each hand not to get the "bad luck" cards, and the person with the least amount of points wins the game. But if you get all of the "bad luck" cards (or "shoot the moon," as it's called), then you get zero points and the three other people (or in this case, the computer) each get twenty-six points.
I didn't really like playing Hearts, since I almost always lost. But then I thought, "Well, if I'm always losing, then I should at least try to shoot the moon every time."
I did, and it became fun, after that. It didn't matter that I lost more times than not, because I was always chasing the feeling I got when I punished my imaginary opponents. The game was no longer about winning or losing, but trying to shoot the moon as many times as I could.
And I won more hands than I honestly thought I would. Even if I thought I would never shoot the moon, I sometimes managed to, even against the odds.
That got me to thinking. It was something very small, but maybe I could make other things in my life into games, even if I don't punish anyone with these games like I punished my opponents in Hearts. With that attitude, I became more productive at work literally overnight (and hopefully this will eventually translate into more money for cat food and other fun stuff). I had more energy, and it didn't feel so much like work. The game was to try as many times, and as "big" as I could, to be successful---not necessarily to just get the work done.
I sometimes worry about falling on hard times, but a lot of people put themselves into hard times on purpose, in order to pursue something they love. If something happens and I lose my job, why not be the kind of person who works during the day at whatever job they find, then goes to auditions or tries to sell their art or writing at night and on days off? If I could manage to do that, that wouldn't be so bad, I suppose (though for now I'm grateful for the job I currently have).
I made my job into a game, and now I'm trying to think of other ways in which I can try to do something big (at least to me). I might lose, or not get to do what I would like to, but that's not really my focus. I'm going to try to have fun trying (as soon as I think of something to try!).

"What Are You Going To Do When I Come Out?"

I posted recently about the problem I had with an evangelical friend, because she reminded me of my evangelical family--namely, my extremely judgmental, probably closeted, Uncle 'Phobe.
I wasn't sure what the exact solution was, though I knew that what I wanted was to be more open to my family about who I was. I want to able to talk about being bisexual, just as my bully of an uncle gets to talk about being straight.
I wear rainbow flag and bisexual flag pins, though lately that does not seem like enough. I doubt that anyone in my family even would recognize the bisexual flag, anyway. Most of them probably wouldn't know that there was one.
My rainbow pins may be the exact reason why he always manages to work in one snide comment about LGBT people per family visit. No one has commented on them, though I've worn them for a while. He was the exact reason I got them, in fact--because he said that gay people should "stay in the closet," and was laughing about it.
But he doesn't have to be in the closet, presuming that he is straight (he always seems very eager to provide evidence of being straight, after all...).
It was hard to think of something to say, that was actually easy to say around him. He was abusive and bullying to my cousins and me when we were children and he was older than my mom, and since then I have always feared him physically, though some times are worse than others.
I finally thought of something that might work: joking about it. Since he often jokes about his homophobia or anti-gay sentiments, maybe I should joke about being the opposite way.
The next family gathering is a long way off, and I don't know for sure what the mood will call for, but I finally found some way that I feel much more comfortable about bringing up the subject: When he makes his inevitable homophobic comments, I will crack a smile, and ask, "What are you going to do when I come out?"
If it shocks him, and makes him ask in surprise if I am a lesbian (because I don't expect he will immediately think of bisexuality), I might say, "I can't tell you that; I'm not out yet!"
If he tells me that I better not come out, I can say, "Don't worry, Uncle 'Phobe; I will NEVER tell you that I'm bisexual!"
If he wants to condemn me, I will simply say, "I have done my research, and come to a different conclusion as a Christian than you have. I don't condemn you, so you don't condemn me."
(Though I am not technically a Christian anymore, because of my doubts that God even exists, I don't feel like I'm lying there, because I know that a good god would never condemn people for the way that she made them.)
Yes, I think a lot about what he might say, based on the things that he has said, before. It's hard not to try to anticipate everything, when a small part of you is still physically afraid of someone (so much so that you bought pepper spray just to make yourself feel better about being around him).
I can't anticipate everything, no, but this is a start. By joking, I reclaim my power, in a way. I have the power, and he doesn't have the power over me. By making a joke of it, his condemnation doesn't matter.
And I don't know if my family will side with him against me (though it will probably be behind my back), or if they will buy into common stereotypes such as that LGBT people are promiscuous. But there's not much this twenty-four-year-old virgin can do about that, is there?
And trying to explain too much could bore them or make them suspicious of the very things that I'm trying to disprove. No one likes someone who so obviously has something to prove, as Uncle 'Phobe has unwittingly proven to me so many times.
So I think if I have to, I'll just explain it as, "I think both guys and girls are great--even romantically!" with a big confident smile. Why should Uncle 'Phobe's misconceptions bring me down, after all? He doesn't even know my life.
I would love to get to the point where I can simply say, "Yeah, class is going good, my animals are so funny, no cute guys or girls in my life right now, and I'm in this new play!" (because I hope to eventually get a part in a local play--if it's actually a good one, that is).
I don't know for sure if this will work, or if I will even use this new coming-out technique (though I think I will), but coming up with the idea made me feel a whole lot better. And I wanted to share it here, before I forgot to, in case someone else could use it, too.

You Are More Ambitious Than You Realize, And That's Okay

About a month or two ago, I started reading the book Ambitchous by Debra Condren, and I haven't really been the same since.
At first I didn't think that I was very ambitious, that I had few goals in life. I just wanted to earn some money, and maybe have some time to write. I wasn't impressed by her idea that it's okay to be ambitious--I was wondering if it was okay not to be.
As I got more into the book, though, and she talked about women's tendancy to sell themselves short, and that they were capable of more than they realized, I started to wonder what I would do if I could have anything I wanted.
I remember how I first decided to go back to college: I was watching a movie with my mom, in which a girl turned down a free college education. "I would love to go to college, if it was free," I remarked casually. A few days later, my mom started asking questions about that remark, then said, "If you want to go to college, I'll help pay for it. You can just go to one class per term, for now."
I was ecstatic! I had not realized how important going to college, and having an actual sense of direction and an education, really was for me, until it seemed possible. Then as I gained more confidence, I got up the courage to start this blog, in secret, though at the time I knew she wouldn't approve (it's a little different now), and I hadn't ever kept anything from my mother in my life. That confidence led to the courage to go for and get my driver's license, which I thought would be impossible for years to come.
That one remark changed my entire life.
It was like that reading this book, too. What if I was selling myself short? What if I actually had ambitions, passions, something that made thrilled to get up in the morning? What if I just hadn't found them?
I started telling myself that I was ambitious, even if I didn't know what about, yet. I started focusing on trying to actually make money, in my job, rather than just avoiding losing money.
I soon realized that I had other passions, like art (I found a never-ending fountain of inspiration, for the first time in my life, in drawing nudes and penises--erotic drawings), writing (though I am busy and slow to publish the chapters right now, I am working on many different stories) and auto mechanics (I now realized why I hated working on cars--because it was so intimidating, and I felt like I knew nothing--but maybe I knew more than I thought!).
When I started working on these passions, more came up. I wrote my own monologue for a play which I am trying out for in about a month.
I went through all of my stuff recently, ruthlessly getting rid of huge quantities of clothes, books, and stuffed animals, in order to feel like I had more room in my life, and to enjoy what I had more. Though I had always purged my stuff before, I now knew I could be very aggressive, and that I would not regret it later. I could live without most of those nice things, because I had a better life now.
And most importantly, I knew a friend who was, and is, starting a local chapter of PFLAG (Parents and Friends of Lesbians And Gays). I thought it would be such an honor to be on the board of it "someday." But after reading this book which encouraged me to be so aggressive about getting everything that I wanted, I thought, Why not now? Why can't it be THIS day?
I had no idea whether I would actually get on that board, but I knew that I couldn't live with myself if I hadn't gone down fighting all the way. At the next Gay-Straight Alliance Club meeting at my college (where I would see this friend, and maybe some board members), I dressed in what I like to call "Rainbow Professional" clothes, and asked what qualifications were required for board members.
"Just someone who has clout within the community, and who is really passionate about this cause," he said.
I knew that the "clout" thing was my only real barrier, other than if they didn't like me because I was too young, but the passion thing I was all over. And as far as I knew, they didn't have an age requirement, or a quota for number of members. So why not me?
"Well, I don't know exactly what you mean by 'clout,'" I replied, after a deep breath, "But I know that I am very passionate about this. I would love to devote my life to this whole...activism...thing," I said. I was worried that I was at a loss for words, and thus would look unprofessional, but apparently it did not work against me.
He told me to write a list of reasons why I would be an excellent board member, and post it on the founder's group Facebook page. So I did.
I mentioned that I was starting a local chapter of the Pink Pistols (an LGBTQ gun rights group). I did not say that I was trying to start one. If somehow it didn't work out, I would simply say that it didn't work out, if asked, and move on to another project.
I said that I was twenty-four years old (which was true), because I know that I look very young sometimes, and that I had been out as bisexual for two years. I fudged on that one a little, since I only started to become aware of it (in a very shocking love-at-first-site scenario with another girl) about a year and a half ago. But I was fully out now (I consider myself such, at least), and another board member had been described to me as "He's openly gay, and him and his partner are raising a whole mess of kids," so I thought it would help if I wasn't freshly out of the closet.
I knew I had dozens of great ideas, and I said as much. Being in the Gay-Straight Alliance, I had been amazed at the many times that I had said something that I thought was too obvious or basic to say, and my PFLAG friend had nearly had an orgasm over it, it was such a "great idea." It was so plainly obvious to me that PFLAG needed a presence in the local holiday parades, for example.
I planned to work very hard for PFLAG, so why shouldn't I have the recognition and help guide it? (I basically said as much, too!)
I knew some of these board members from trying to start an atheist group at the college, which I had given up on, because I was leaving for the summer. As the summer progressed, I realized that the atheist cause was always the second-most important cause to me, since I believe LGBTQ people, on the whole, are hurt more than atheists by society.
I worried that my "flaking" on the atheist group would work against me, so I mentioned it, but then told the truth: That I had realized that LGBT rights are my real passion. So in this way, I addressed the potential problem, and put a positive spin on it.
It even became a strength. I said that I was not afraid to ask strangers to sign a petition. I had gotten over that fear by repeating to myself, over and over like a mantra, "Would you like to sign a petition for a new student club?" hundreds and hundreds of times, since I had the "Hi" part down already. I went to sleep saying that, in my mind, and as I got drowsier, I started asking the imaginary people if they wanted to sign a position for a new stupid club.
I knew that once I was on that board, I would be a very valuable contributor to this cause. I knew I could do my job, and do it well, and contribute a lot of unique and valuable ideas. So whatever I had to say or do to get on that board, without physically harming anyone, was acceptable.
I was able to meet with one board member, a wonderful and very surprising progressive Christian, and got her support. I walked-and-talked with another, who was very busy, and simply offered to add her to the Facebook group, since she wasn't on there yet (she could just see my list, after all, and I wanted to be brief to leave a good impression). I considered asking the board to let me be a member as a trial for a few months, though I ultimately didn't have to do that. I considered demanding, over and over again, WHY they didn't want me on the board, since there was no good reason why I shouldn't be on that board--but I ultimately didn't have to do that.
I became Facebook friends with yet another board member because we both loved the Gay Christian Network and he knew and liked my cousin. I genuinely liked these people, that I was "using," and made some good friends along the way to my dreams.
I left a post up on the Facebook page, thanking two people by name for all of the nice things they said about me (leaving that intentionally vague, to leave more room for the imagination) and saying that I was so glad to have their support to be on the board. They had been nice, and though I didn't know for certain whether one of them was really sincere when they said they would love to have me on the board, I thanked them for their support anyway. If they were insincere, by any chance, I would force them to contradict themselves, and make me not like them, or shut up. By doing this, I would also not only make these people feel good, but make their support and compliments a matter of public record. Turns out this person was sincere, and ended up "Liking" the post. I am the queen of networking.
I was ruthless. I resorted to what I thought was trickery. I acted in what I thought of as a demanding way. And I got it.
If all goes according to plan, I should be sitting on that board when we become an official nonprofit organization. And if it doesn't go according to plan, I will resort to my bag of evil tricks, until they have to call the police to get rid of me.
And this all started because I entertained the notion that I could have absolutely everything that I ever wanted. 

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When "God" Wants You In A Box

 Note: This is not about God killing people and putting them in coffins. You can relax now.

There were many years, after I had a kind of crises of faith, that I didn't know what I was, and I didn't know how my relationship to God was (when I thought of God as real, which was only sometimes). I had tried, and failed, to fit into the evangelical box, and now, because of that, was God done with me--or prevented from having a relationship with me because of my "sins"?
The hardest part about my faith was the praying, and almost constantly talking to God in my thoughts. I couldn't think certain thoughts because they were sinful, blasphemous or otherwise unacceptable, and it was exhausting to keep these thoughts out. I couldn't think of people on TV shows saying "Oh my God," or about the fact that Jesus was probably naked on the cross, and I couldn't have sympathy for LGBTQ people when the subject of hate crimes or human rights came up without an internal caveat that they were still not "doing" (I put it in quotes now, because homosexuality, etc, is what someone is) what God wanted for them. In fact, I couldn't be in favor of gay rights either, even if it made sense to me.
I couldn't think anything bad about the bible, even that it was merely mistaken, and I certainly couldn't think about its disrespect of women and its extra rules for women in church and in marriage. I was proud to be a feminist (because what modern woman is not a feminist, and grateful for feminism?), and strove to be strong and confident as a woman, but I couldn't be too feminist, too outspoken, and I certainly worried about having to "submit" if I ever got married.
All of these caveats, all of these internal sanctions on what I could and could not think, constantly trying to make my thoughts Christian and prayerful, and trying to keep up a running conversation with God (who didn't respond very clearly), were exhausting. And yet I couldn't relax, because I had to be vigilant and take my thoughts captive, and so it became harder and harder to get to sleep. I suffered depression, poor health, and insomnia, mostly because of the mandates of "God."

A woman in my theater class has a nephew with special needs, behavioral and mental health issues, and says that the school district thought of him as a monster because he couldn't fit into "the box" of their expectations.
I thought that God had a tiny, odd-shaped box for me to fit into. I thought I had to be a certain kind of person, a certain kind of Christian, which I discovered did not come naturally to me.
I heard the message to "be yourself" from Christian and secular culture alike, as well as feminist literature. But I couldn't "be myself" too much, because that was my "sin nature." I thought that what was in fact me, was not me, and had to be fought against with all my strength--or I would slip into sin and "fall away" from God, or become a shallow Christian or a bad Christian or a bad person.
This is the big question for struggling evangelicals: How much is "you," and must be embraced, and how much is your "sin nature," and must be vehemently fought against?
Whenever I put "God" in quotes, I am talking about somebody else's version of God. Now I am the things that "God" hates. I am technically an atheist, because even though I have a spiritual side and think of God sometimes, my practical side tells me that there's probably not a higher power for us. Even though I've never even been kissed, at twenty-four, I am very sexual and I have a huge appetite for fantasy and masturbation. I have very strong emotions, and they often come out in strong words and cursing.
I am a woman, and in the bible I get the impression that women are literally damned if they do, damned if they don't. There are so many rules and so much confusion, and women are also literally told, in the bible, that they are more wicked than men.
I think that if God is all-powerful, that she is a bastard, because of all the crap that goes on in the world today, and I refer to God as "she" because I don't think that any good god would be so sexist that the word "she" would be an insult.
I'm not very "feminine" or flirty in my mannerisms, I love to argue, I love alternative points of view about God or gods, and I'm bisexual, which I thought for a long time was just feminism (still a feminist, only now I'm a bisexual feminist). I don't fit in the typical evangelical Christian mold at all.
And it was so hard for me when I started to discover all of this. I spent too many years unsure of what I was, but knowing that I was definitely not a "Christian."
And after I had tried so hard, too! Was it all some cruel joke, that I was destined to fall away from God and go to hell, after having such great intentions? I wanted nothing more than to get close to God, for my relationship with God to be easy and not a constant struggle with myself, like so many people claimed to have. But it was not to be--after all that effort, it was not to be! That was so unfair!
I couldn't even stand to look at a Christian book in a thrift shop for many years. I couldn't even look at a Christian book or a bible, because it was much too painful. I was hurting and bristling every time I glanced at a Christian billboard or cross by the side of the road. I tried to watch atheist videos a few years ago, curious about what they had to say, but I had to turn them off very quickly, because they would start talking about religion--or worse, talking to a Christian trying to witness to them or use apologetics on them. I couldn't stand the subject, because it hurt my heart too badly.
I felt a strong connection with the song "Losing My Religion" by REM, because of the sadness in the words. I wanted to be good, but I couldn't be what I was supposed to be. I couldn't be what everyone wanted and expected me to be, including, I thought, God.

I disappeared into music and thinking of stories about superheroes. To this day, when I hear many REM songs that I know (as well as many other songs), I think of DC's Captain Marvel, and it makes me happy.
It bothers me a lot when people judge me for not fitting into the evangelical Christian box, especially some of my family, but I try to tell myself that they don't know how sincere I was. They haven't been where I have been, they haven't gone through what I have gone through. They don't know how hard I tried, and they don't know my intentions, even to this day.
I just want to know the truth, and if God is anything like what they imagine, I don't want anything to do with him. And if God is like anything like what I imagine, I have nothing against her. I don't necessarily want a relationship with either of them, with what I've been through, and I don't necessarily think that either of them would even exist, but my god would understand.

"But his mind is wide open, and far beyond that of the average kid," my classmate says of her nephew. "And I find that amazing."
I don't fit into the tiny, narrow evangelical box, and I have determined that I will never again try to fit. But maybe that's okay. If her nephew can be amazing, then maybe I don't have to fit into the box to be a worthwhile human being.
And you don't either. It's time to kick the box off the stage.

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This Blog Has Changed My Life

Around this time last year, my mother got tired of my discussing religion all of the time, and said that she did not want to talk about it with me anymore (we talk about it all the time again now). She had always been the only one that I really felt I could confide in, and I had been thinking about this subject a lot, discovering so many new things thanks to atheist personalities on the internet.
And now I had no one to talk to about those things.
I was pretty desperate. I had to do something.
I had so many thoughts about the blogs I read and the videos I saw, and the ideas they presented, but the thought of setting up various online accounts and sharing my opinions with strangers was very intimidating. I wondered if my reasoning was sound or if I would look dumb.
But I had so much to say, and think about, and I wanted something of what these other people had: A forum for their thoughts, a community of like-minded people, the respect of others. Someday, I wanted a blog, or to write a book, or to make videos. But the thought of figuring out how to go about any of these things, and put my thoughts out there, was daunting and confusing.
Someday I wanted to have a small piece of the internet, and I wanted the courage to share an important part of myself with others. And now I had nowhere else to turn, if I wished to discuss matters very dear to my heart.
Then late one night in May of 2014 I decided to take the plunge. Reading about religion and atheism just wasn't doing it for me anymore. I had to do something more, and this time (for the first time in my life) without the support of my parents.
I was extremely nervous, afraid that my dad would find out what I did on his computer (I didn't know if he would care, but I didn't want him, or anyone, to know, because I was venturing into unknown territory). This was the first time that I had made any major decision without my parents' knowledge, and it felt like a huge rebellion. I worried that this was the wrong choice, I worried that my mother would hate what I did if she found out, I worried that I would say something I regretted or reveal too much about my loved ones.
I have always known that she loved me, but she didn't seem to understand why I was so fascinated with the subjects of religion and atheism. I think she thought that I had an unhealthy fixation (maybe anger or bitterness over what had happened to me), and she may not have understood how important this was for me.
"What am I going to do?" I thought when she said that she did not wish to discuss these things anymore. "She is the only one I can confide in, and now I have no one."
So, with much trepidation, I got myself another Gmail account. Then I used that to get myself a Blogger site of the same name. Unfortunately, it was very late at night, and I spelled both of these as "Atheist Journies." I was able to correct my mistake; however, I have a now-defunct blog named "Atheist Journies," and an unused email account to match.
I had wondered for a while what to call my blog, what my handle online would be, what I would write about, and if I could keep up the writing regularly, or if I would someday run out of things to say.
 I wanted a username online that would be emotionally significant to me, and that I wouldn't outgrow in a few months or years. I often wondered what made people choose names like "Angry Atheist," "Atheist Canuck," or "The Darwinist." I didn't really feel strongly towards words like "reason," "Darwin," or "logic." I wanted something that fitted me, not just atheism.
"I am an atheist now," I thought. "Though I never thought I would ever be here, years ago. And I don't know what I'll be in a few years, though I think I have an idea of it..."
Basically, this was where I was in my journey.
My life has changed so much in the past year. I have changed so much. I have my driver's license, after years of not having the courage to take my test. I am trying to start an atheist club at my community college (which is why I haven't been publishing very frequently lately), and having to approach strangers, admit that I'm an atheist, and ask for their signatures for the petition (and it's scary, but I'm slowly but surely doing it). I am publishing Accelerated Christian Education gay fan fiction, which as far as I know is the first ACE fan fiction on the internet. I am on Twitter and Disqus, and often debate Christians on these forums.
My mom asked me recently what I thought had made me so confident, in the past year. I knew, but I'm afraid I didn't answer the question with complete honesty. I confide almost everything to my mom, but for once it's nice to have something all to myself. It was one small act of independence, and it led to many bigger things.
My point is this: If you're thinking of starting a blog, whatever the subject matter, please do. You won't lose interest, if it's something you're passionate about. It will make you feel more independent, if that is what you need in your life. It will give you a place to share your thoughts, if that is what you need in your life. And the thought that your ideas and opinions are "published," for the world to see, even if you are the one publishing them and only a few people see, will give you a bit more confidence than you already have. And if you publish anonymously (as I am, for now, though I don't plan to always do so), you can be yourself, where you might be afraid to otherwise.
I still struggle with confidence issues, and I still wonder often if what I say is dumb. But I have come a long way, and I would encourage anyone in my former position to take that first step. You won't regret it.

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Mouthy

A woman in one of my classes this last school year mentioned that she always seemed to say what was on her mind, before she even thought about it, and that that sometimes offended people or got her in trouble. I remember thinking that I would have killed for that problem.
I remember an acting workshop I attended last semester. The guest teacher had us warm up our voices and bodies by bouncing up and down while carrying a loud, open-mouthed hum, like a child being patted on the back.
"Since there are only women here," she said, "I want you to focus deep in your lungs and find your Strong Voice, which we as women often are forbidden to do by society. For example, if you say 'I just really don't like you,' in a higher-pitched voice, it's fine, but when you say, 'I REALLY DON'T LIKE YOU,' in a deeper voice, they're like, 'Whoa! She's so mean!'" she explained, jerking her head back realistically in "shock."
That got me to wondering if it was really okay to tell someone that you didn't like them, rather than just not saying anything at all. Maybe it wasn't always wrong to be mean to someone, or it was acceptable when stating your own opinion?
It had never actually occurred to me to tell someone that I didn't like them. I had always thought that one should simply not say anything to them, just cut them out of one's life as much as possible, and anything beyond that was "unnecessary" and going too far.
Maybe I was wrong about that, though. Maybe I could be mean and still be a good, mostly-nice person. Maybe trying to be nice (almost) always was not the indicator of whether I was right or wrong.
When I first got my Twitter account as Atheist Journeys, and started talking to theists as an atheist, I thought that being nice was what I should always do, because then I would not be sinking to some of their levels. I would be better than them, and take the high ground.
But I felt extremely limited by "niceness" when I was a Christian, and I don't want to do that to myself anymore. There are times to be nice, and there are times to be mean, and I'm not even sure that I should focus on being "nice" most of the time. I wanted to be a "loving atheist," but I'm not sure now that that is who I am.
I had seen people who were always angry, who were offended at the slightest inconvenience or deviation from their standards, and I thought that not being nice would lead to my becoming like them. I had read plenty of feminist books, but I was still afraid of becoming a perpetually-angry bitch (or seeming like one).
I don't know where exactly I got this notion that I had to always be nice, no matter how others treated me. I think I was always afraid of what would happen if I was not nice. I remember, as a child, feeling that adults could hurt me and that I could not do anything about it, even that my parents couldn't do anything about it.
Once when I was seven, I called the (adult) relative who always picked on my cousins and me the devil. As I later heard the story (I only remember what happened next clearly), he threatened that next time I called him that, he would "beat your ass" in front of my mother.
"Don't talk to my kid that way!" my mom said.
"Stay out of this! This is not your concern," he retorted.
"She's my kid," she answered, and then I remember the shouting match. They got in each other's faces, and I was terrified. I thought that he would hurt my mother, and I wanted to stay and try to prevent it, but my aunt forcefully herded me and my cousins out to the front porch. No blows were exchanged, I guess, but I think they came close.
My father wasn't there at the time. I was told to keep it a secret from him. He found out years later, and as it was fresh in his mind, he said that he could hardly control himself enough to keep himself out of prison. That was probably why my mother advised me not to say anything about it.
I think I blamed myself for that incident. If I had held my tongue, he wouldn't have blown up at my mom. I wouldn't have been terrified, and it wouldn't have disrupted the family "harmony." (Though is it really harmony when he made me scream in terror and cry in frustration?)
I remember saying I was sorry later, because I thought my safety depended on it, and I thought everyone would make me anyway. I wasn't sorry, though, and I felt like I was betraying myself. I still remember the smug, condescending way he said, "Apology accepted."
I hated him for that remark. I didn't want him to accept my apology. I didn't want to feel like I had to offer an apology to save my life. I wanted him to move out of state again. I wanted him out of my life.
It's not safe to be mean to adults when you are a small child, even if they make your life miserable. I am just now learning that I won't get killed for making nasty remarks.
The cousin who tried to intimidate me with implied threats and physical size (whom I was fortunate enough to be able to call out and shut up, though I had no idea my mouth would work that way, in that instant), ironically, had my relative very involved in his upbringing, and I wonder if those were the older man's values rubbing off. I do remember this older relative once making a point of letting me pick out a candy first, because I was the oldest among the children. He explicitly stated that that was his reasoning, and though I benefited from it, I thought it was strange at the time. The arbitrary, unearned privilege of the oldest seems, to me, related to the arbitrary, unearned privilege of the biggest (as well as that of the husband in some Christian teachings, of which our relative was a fan at one time).
To the best of my knowledge, no one ever told me that I was not wrong to call him the devil. He was like the devil, in my mind, as he hurt me emotionally and physically, terrified me, and seemed to enjoy it. No one had ever told me that it was not wrong to tell someone flat-out that I didn't like them, until that workshop. No one had ever told me that it was okay to hurt somebody's feelings, or make them mad. Though my mother praised me for verbally putting my cousin down at Christmas (because I thought that he was dissing his brother), my childhood conditioning had been hard to break.
And most of all, no one ever thought to tell me that it was safe to say those things. That I would be safe, protected, regardless of what I had said. Even if I was wrong.
Maybe being mean (or honest) does not mean that you wish somebody harm, that you are petty, or that you are wrong to do it.
Maybe being mean isn't wrong, and maybe I won't be harmed or punished for it. That is a lesson that I am still learning, and it takes a lot of practice and thinking about what to say in certain situations, but someday I hope to be as mouthy as the woman in my class.
Someday I hope to tell someone, "I REALLY DON'T LIKE YOU!"

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"I Am Twice Your Size:" Casual Physical Intimidation

 Trigger warning, obviously, for physical intimidation, implied threats, an adult terrorizing children, being "tickled" too hard (non-consensually) so that it hurts, not being listened to about very strong feelings, inappropriate (non-consensual) touching by other children, and general, all-around shittiness. It's also about an empowering experience, too, so it's not all dark, and it ends on a good note. If you wish to proceed, enjoy.

Christmas with the Christian side of the family, I anticipated, would be extremely unpleasant. The year before a couple of uncles had been delighted with Duck Dynasty's Phil Robertson and had eagerly expressed their glee to one another. "Even if you don't agree, you've got to admire him for standing up for his beliefs," one of them had smiled.
I had not said anything that year, being shocked at what they had said (since it was relatively old news even then), and not knowing what to say.
This time, for weeks beforehand, I had practiced saying that I actually don't admire the publicity stunts of reality stars, that I didn't think a loving god would tell someone that an act of love was an abomination, even that no one can judge another's salvation (because, once again, my grandfather was asking us to come to his church, even though he thinks that we are believers like him).
Surprisingly, though, it was not an unpleasant Christmas; my great stand was not about religion or politics at all, and I stood up to someone that I wasn't expecting to.
My cousin was asking an uncle about a gun he was thinking of buying.
"Why do you want it?" his older brother (whom I think of as Blue-Butt because of a Smurf rape joke that I got in trouble for years ago) asked.
"Because it has more firepower," answered my youngest cousin. (I will call him Red-Butt, because when he was very little, after his bath he used to run through the house naked. We older kids would grab towels and try to capture him and cover him up, everyone laughing all the while, and my mother would yell, "There goes the Red-Butted Boobie!" (not an actual bird))
"He wants to make a bigger hole," his dad commented.
Blue shook his head. "Poor child," he said sarcastically.
The words flew out of my mouth and I was pointing deliberately at him before I realized what was going on. "That's how I feel about you!" I retorted.
"I am twice your size," he said, contemptuously emphasizing every word.
"So?" I asked, spreading my hands and giving him a purposefully confused look. I was thankful that my mouth had responded so quickly.
He rolled his eyes, gave a little scoff and looked away, ignoring me. He had not answered my question, which made me think that I had won somehow.
After a few seconds, I mumbled, "I'm just teasing you, Blue. I'm just kidding... sort of," but I don't think he heard me, and my heart wasn't in it. It felt bad to say, and so I stopped saying it. 
I couldn't get this little exchange out of my mind for hours afterwards. I cannot imagine how physical size would have anything to do with being nice to people, or even with acting childish. Did he think physical size made him more adult than me? Or that he could subtly put people down because of his size? Or even that I couldn't feel a certain way about him? (Red is as big as he is, so he can't really put Red down as being child-sized compared to him.)
There are at least three things I believe happened here: 1) I probably have made an enemy, whether I was right or wrong to say it, 2) I told him that I was not intimidated by his physical size or strength, and, 3) I was more of a loudmouth than I ever remember. I told him what I thought of him, and I love that that happened.
I am surprised that he would resort to physical intimidation to shut me up, that that was apparently okay with him, and equally surprised at my response. I have always thought of myself as timid and scared, and I once told my mom that on some level I was physically afraid of all men. That is still true somewhat, but here I was, unafraid of him.
As a child I had been terrified of an uncle who physically bullied me (and my cousins), "tickling" us until it hurt, grabbing us against our wills and hanging us upside down in spite of our terrified screams (the other adults did not take our protests seriously, and did not want to make waves).
As an adult, I had bought a can of mace and decided that even in my family, there would also be legal repercussions if someone tried to physically intimidate me. "Get out of my face!" I would say, and if they persisted, I would mace them and later say, truthfully, that I was afraid for my physical safety. They would know not to mess with me, and that I did not take implied threats lightly. If they were to invade my physical space, after all, what's to stop them from hitting me? Perhaps I was being paranoid, but it made me feel a lot better.
That attitude, about an uncle, now applied to my cousin as well. Worst case scenario, if I ate my own teeth, didn't get a chance to mace him, and he beat the crap out of me, he would still be a felon. He would either be in prison or on the lam, and it would ruin his life. I didn't care how many people I pissed off, I would have gladly sent a bully to prison.
His threat was deflated; obviously, he would not have gone through with it. I was surrounded by my father, other male relatives, and my mother, who brawled quite a bit in high school, when other girls picked on her, and was strong enough to have had several very physical jobs. I also have taken two years of taekwondo, and apparently I was less cowed and intimidated by him than he expected (maybe even than I have been before). He was also sitting across the room from me; if he had been invading my personal space, looking down on me, I might have reacted differently; I really don't know.
I can either assume that he wouldn't have gone through with it, and thus was making idle threats (I don't know why else he would refer to physical size), or that he would have gone ahead and beaten up a person half his size for calling him childish.
He is three years younger than me, and this is not the first time that he made a point of boasting that he could take me on. When he was going through puberty and the subsequent growth spurts, he once told me, very arrogantly, "I'm stronger than you." (I forget the context of this situation; I was probably disagreeing with him.)
So what? I thought. You're still an asshole. I had not said it at the time, but I think I might if it happened now.
And I have punched him before. When I was twelve and he was nine, I often played male characters in our games, such as Woody and Robin. He started finding excuses to push me or touch me in the chest, all in the context of "play." It got to be such a problem, and bothered me so much, that (at my mother's suggestion, no less), I punched him when we were playing in my grandparents' pool one day with some of his friends. I thought that his touching me was in this case an accident, and I didn't feel very good about doing it in front of his friends, explaining what he did in front of them. But I was so desperate to have it stop that I did it anyway.
The blow had landed on his throat. I had thought that I would have a weak punch, but he was in tears, his voice hoarse. He was mad at me because he said it was an accident, and it abruptly put a stop to our game, but I was relieved. I had finally done it! I had finally physically hurt him, for using me as a sex object--not even taking my feelings into consideration when using my body to satisfy his sexual urges or curiosity. I hoped he would never do it again.
I was right; he never touched me again. He may have remembered it, and was looking for an opportunity to "put me in my place" or get back at me ever since.
Whatever the case, it doesn't look like he can or will make such threats anymore, and I don't have to let him put his brother down (as I saw it) in my presence.
It feels good to be mean.

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A Common Bullying Tactic (And The Magic Words To Counter It)

There was a commentary by Christian writer Ben S. Carson, regarding the removal and return of bibles to U.S. Navy Lodge rooms, published about a week ago in The Washington Times, which I believe beautifully illustrates one of the most common bullying tactics I have seen. Though I don't know that he was trying to shut down arguments using this tactic, I have seen this same strategy often used in such a way, in verbal arguments especially.
The very common bullying tactic was this: He simply stated as fact what should rightfully be called an opinion, implying that to disagree was to be wrong.
The author of this article flat-out asserts that atheism is a religion (in spite of the fact that I have never seen an atheist say this), that it is the belief there is no god, and that it requires strong convictions. He then compares bibles to something as innocuous and non-controversial as bottled water, and even says that removing bibles would impose atheists' "religion" on everyone else. He calls atheists "whiners" and says that they need to be given "big-boy pants" (because apparently all atheists are male; I know I was issued a penis when I stopped believing).
My main problem with this article is that, without asking atheists about their own "religion," Carson states his opinions as facts, as if to disagree with him is to deny reality. That is not what I, and many others, believe. And while I think that he was not trying to bully anyone, merely trying to please his Christian readers, the addition of two simple words, "I believe..." would have made him look far less arrogant, less confrontational, and would have made it much easier for me to respectfully consider his points. Arrogant certainty is potentially hurtful to those who disagree, and therefore makes enemies.
This article made me feel rather emotional, as I have been on the receiving end of tactics like his, used to put me back in line or bully me into agreeing, before. I have even occasionally used this strategy myself, though I now know how wrong and futile it is and try not to do so. In any kind of argument, whether atheists are talking about Christians, or the other way around, or if either side is talking about God or even a different topic entirely, it is much more respectful to others to preface at least your first statement with the words, "I believe..." or "I think..." or "in my experience..." etc.

Here is an example of what it looks like if both sides refuse to do this:

Believer: "Atheism is a religion."
Unbeliever: "No, atheism is a lack of religion."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."
Believer: "Atheists hate Christians."
Unbeliever: "No they don't."
"Yes, they do. The bible says the world will hate us."
"The bible's wrong."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is."

This creates a stalemate or shouting match. Neither will be convinced by the other, and they are probably too emotional by this point to agree to disagree (after all, they both probably have hurt feelings from being flat-out told they were wrong).
Some people actually enjoy this process, and will do it all day long. I do not, and I believe it is destructive to relationships. If there are people in my life who are angry enough to enjoy a good shouting match, and I want to maintain peace with them without pretending to agree, I will have to "go around" their anger rather than confront it head-on.

What You Can Say:

"I don't believe that."

They may claim to know all the facts, but they would sound ridiculous trying to tell you what you believe. This can go one of two ways:

Something like this:

"I don't believe that."
"Yes you do!"
"Well, I don't think I do!"
 "You know it deep down."
"Well, I guess I'm not in touch with my 'deep down.' I may be wrong, but I always try to find the truth."
"You're lying. You just want to sin." (Or "You just don't want to accept reality.")
"I certainly hope not."

Or maybe it goes something like this:

"I don't believe that."
"Well, it's the truth."
"Well, maybe I'm wrong, but I always try to find the truth, and I don't believe this is it."
"It is."
"Okay. I know you believe that. That's okay with me."

These are just snatches of imaginary conversations, and I don't hope to represent real people or real arguments here, just possibilities.  I think that these tactics are much more likely to diffuse an emotional situation without someone having to capitulate or "lose." Both parties can walk away feeling like they have won something, if nothing more than peace or respect.
The real challenge is to remember to shift into this mode when you're in the midst of using confrontational tactics, returning them, or having them used on you. A quick explanation often works as well as an apology in helping to cool down a battle (and doesn't give the impression that you're apologizing for "being wrong"). "This is just what I believe," you can explain, "I know it's not your beliefs." Even acknowledging that they have different beliefs than you goes a long way towards being accepted by and making clear that you accept the other person, or at least towards a grudging truce.
It is especially hard to control one's emotions when someone close to you is making accusations about your character, but this tactic can also be used in that situation. I have far fewer fights with those I love now that I know not to speculate upon their character or motives, but I think that one will eventually forget and that some of that is inevitable. Stating what you think or believe can be used effectively if they are questioning your character.

For example:

"You only care about yourself!"
"I don't think that that's true. I try not to be selfish."

This will hopefully lead to them explaining why they believe you are acting selfishly, disrespectfully, etc. If not, you can repeat this mantra, that you try not to be whatever horrible thing, and ask them to explain why they think you are being that way.They will probably think that you are not in touch with reality, but they will not have an excuse to think badly of your character. If they do, that is no longer your problem; you've tried to make yourself clear.

It also works for unwanted psychological evaluations:

"You always do this! You always sabotage yourself!"
"I'm not trying to do it. If I am, I don't know it."
Or, "You're depressed."
(If you don't feel that way) "I don't think that I am. Why do you think so?"

This will turn the conversation onto the reasons for their diagnoses or solutions to the problem, rather than labels.
Of course sometimes this bullying tactic, stating an opinion as a fact, is not used maliciously or intentionally, as those who employ it do not realize that they are doing anything wrong. It may still be hurtful, but it becomes bullying only when it is used aggressively or intentionally to shut down and intimidate the opposition.
By using this one phrase, "I don't believe that," or "That's not what I believe," in a respectful manner, the conversation turns back onto beliefs, not "facts," which is actually where it was all along, though now both parties agree that this is so. While you cannot turn every bully into a friend, and you should by all means avoid physically dangerous situations (in which case this tactic may not be effective, and you shouldn't risk it), this will help to diffuse an emotional situation and calm things down a bit. By being sincere but firm, you will ensure that the worst that they can rightfully conclude about you or accuse you of is that you are well-intentioned but stupid, and I would take that label any day; after all, God can't throw me in hell if I'm just stupid.

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Magical Superpowers

 Sometimes, we have to learn the hard way from life; and sometimes, life teaches us a lesson that blows our minds.
There is nothing like writing down what one has learned to hammer the lesson home. Ever since writing a previous post, "The Movie-Cliche Rapist," I have had the impression of being guided by a force inside myself that knows what's best for me, that always looks out for me, that will never leave me and always guide me to do the right thing and make the right decision, if I only learn to listen to it. It feels like having some kind of secret superpower.
But oddly enough, I still don't believe that this "force" is from God, or is God. I get the distinct impression that "The Force" is inside me--and is me.
I use fanciful language, of course, to describe my "intuition;" my survival instinct.
The instinct is millions of years old (though the rest of me is not), so why wouldn't it know how to sense danger?
I feel grateful both for and to this instinct, for taking care of me. The instinct never abandons me, and I don't even have to pray to it.
Years of religious indoctrination have tried to kill this force within me, but it would not be killed. They tried to train me to distrust my "flesh" and look to ancient, offensive and fanciful texts for guidance. Now I don't have to do that anymore.
This mysterious force, that so many people have attributed to something or someone outside of themselves--maybe it was in them all along. Perhaps, in a way, I actually do know what it's like to have a "religious" or "spiritual" experience.
I think of the millions of years of evolution it took to get to this point in time, and I vaguely wonder if I'm sending gratitude to my hundreds of thousands of predecessors; in other words, if this feeling is some sort of ancestor worship.
Then again, maybe I'm setting myself up as my own goddess. But when you think about it, if it weren't for the threat of hell...why not? Why not be your own "god" or "goddess;" the person who calls the shots?
But while reflecting on all of these things, it made me wonder: Did all of this mean that I'm not an atheist anymore? Maybe this simply makes me "more spiritual than religious?"
I don't know how others would define it, but I'm not entirely sure that I could be called "spiritual" if I believe my intuition resides in my brain.
A friend of mine who has traveled extensively says that in Nepal they have a saying: "I honor the god within you." Do we all have "gods" within us? But if they're not separate entities, then they are us. And if they are us...why call them gods? This doesn't change my awe at the discovery of the incredible power that I believe is in all of us. Life blocks us from this power within us, makes us unaware...until we learn to become more of ourselves, more comfortable in our own skin.
Until we learn to listen to ourselves, instead of what we think God or others want from us.

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They Can't All Be Rapists And Idiots

I was looking through a bin of books outside the thrift shop the other day when I heard someone talking to me. I looked up, and a guy with a mohawk and a loud neon green shirt was asking me how I was. "Great, thank you," I smiled, and went back to looking at the books.
About a minute later, I heard his voice again. He was driving through the parking lot, and stopped to get my attention. "I just wanna tell you that I think you're really beautiful," he said.
My mind flashed back to my coworker at my first job, who had said I was cute, tried to kiss me...and years later I found out he was a wanted sex offender.
"Oh. Thank you."
He drove off, much to my relief. I didn't have to make a decision either way.
You should have given him your number, a voice in my head said to me, he seemed nice.
No, I thought. He was too confident, way too smooth--just like you-know-who.
I wondered if I was being fair to him. A part of me had been flattered, had wanted to believe he was nice, had wanted to oblige him. But I was halfway uncomfortable with his forwardness, and something in his manner.
Did I want to give him my number, I wondered? No, I thought. Tell him you already have someone. Hurt his feelings, he'll get over it. But don't hurt yourself.
I thought I had learned my lesson from my experience with my first job, but writing about it (see a previous post, "The Movie-Cliche Rapist," and the next post, "Magical Superpowers," for more on the story and my views of intuition and the survival instinct) had really hammered the lesson home: I was to be guided by my intuition, not by my "niceness." If someone made me uncomfortable, I was to throw him away.
It's a hard habit to break, though, not being nice.
Later the clerk at the convenience store starting talking to me. He seemed nice, and did not make me at all uncomfortable. Yet somehow he seemed not confident or exciting enough. I thanked him and left.
See? I thought to myself. I told you my intuition was magic!
You're too picky, my inner critic said. You can't expect everyone to be like Ben*. Not even Ben is like Ben anymore.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, I thought. I'm an introvert, I don't like dates. To my inner critic, it sounded like a lame excuse, but I knew I didn't want to risk it being otherwise. I guess when you're in love, all you see are rapists and idiots.


*Ben is the Christian boy I have not seen in a long time but still (sometimes) have feelings for. Please see some previous posts, "Crushing On A Christian, Part 1 of 2" and "Crushing On A Christian, Part 2 of 2."

Update: My feelings for Ben have changed. See the later posts, "Crushing On A Christian...No Longer," and "Left For A Loaf, Or Waiting For The 'Next' Guy," to see what happened.

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