4 new atheists so far

I just got an email from a girl who deconverted. She's been struggling with why god hates her so much for loving another woman, and wanting to let go of god for awhile. Then she saw my video on Sunday School and what I said about children being taught they are flawed, evil, sinful and wrong was exactly what she needed to hear.

"That was why I couldn't get away from god. Because deep down I was still that child in Sunday School being told again and again that I was sinful. And just like that, sitting here in my room and listening to your video, all my fear about hell and god went away. What's left is a woman free to live her life without fear."

Epic just isn't a powerful enough word. Stellar maybe? A YouTube video did the trick for me; it's why I do videos myself. Still, there's a world of difference between believing you're doing some good and knowing it.

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Media Circus

Um, is it me or did the world just kinda flip its lid? Every other email calls me a whore* or a hero. An ABC News team was here a couple days ago, and the piece should air on tomorrow night's news (2/28/2010). I've done interviews, plural. A guy from the St. Pete Times talked to me for over an hour yesterday, and I'll be the lead in a larger piece on the TMI question regarding social media. (If you don't wanna read it, don't read it. Just like the rest of the internet. Why is this so hard to grasp?)

I don't think it's right to call me a hero. I think there was a lot more naivety than heroism in my initial decision to tweet this. It wasn't even that conscious of a choice - I tweet everything. I write about everything. The rewards of honesty, in terms of a personal sense of "wholeness", can't be adequately described. No one can hurt me because, everything they know is something I chose to reveal about myself. No matter what they do with that (including writing a so-far 7 post long series decrying me as an evil mentally disturbed skank, ala Jill Staneck, she in desperate need of a good lay) it's not... real.


Once I realized that taking the advice of a bunch of middle-aged unhappy divorced women (ahem, "family") on whether or not I should get married at 23 was a really stupid thing to do, I started to consider the source of feedback more seriously. There are some people in this world who's good opinion I desire - they are my son, my boyfriend, my friends (Christian, atheist, Muslim, Wiccan or Satanist). Even there, my two closest girlfriends are both somewhat troubled by my decision to abort - one because she is pregnant herself right now, and has decided to give her life a complete makeover to prepare for a child she never planned on having; the other because she is an orphan, and has always craved family. I can't fault either of them for their discomfort with my decision, and both have remained supportive to me personally, if perhaps a little distant right now.

This entire reaction has been so out-of-proportion and insane. I've written about illegal drug use, sex, spousal abuse, child abuse, crazy cult stories, personal foibles and failings, and most of all, I've talked smack about Baby Jesus. Yet the reaction was minimal. People might tell me I was misunderstanding the Bible, or else that I was going to hell, but no one suggested I should be physically hurt for my views.

Maybe coming out as an atheist, and longer ago as bisexual, set me up for false expectations. I didn't see this as being more controversial. I know several pro-choice Christians, and I assumed more people were pro-choice than atheist, for example. Abortions are really common, right? And a first trimester abortion, to save the life of the mother, that's supposed to be the kind that every reasonable person supports, right?

Wrong. Apparently I'm a murderer, a killer, a Nazi, Hitler (also, from another "prolife" advocate, I'm apparently a "dirty jew"[stet].) I've been told I made my choice when I "opened my legs", "dint giv him the brown hole[stet]" or "have dude cum on youre ugly face". People threatened my son, insulted him, called me a child abuser and told me I don't love my kid. (One threatened to call child services, under the mistaken impression, one supposes, that abortion is illegal, or child abuse.)

When people say I'm a hero for talking about this, I think they assume I knew what I was getting into. I didn't. Maybe it's because I only really started watching the news during the presidential campaign, and since the election ended, I've only watched sporadically, but I didn't expect this. I knew some people would call me a baby killer, sure. But for the first two days, before I put up my Abortion YouTube video**, I didn't think I was talking to anybody I didn't always talk to.

The media attention has been somewhat overwhelming. I'm just doing something women do everyday. Abortions aren't rare, and when they're legal, they're safe. Maybe it's because I'd spent the days leading up to my clinic visit reading ImNotSorry.net, but I honestly didn't realize that *no one* talks about their abortions. It's been pretty baffling to me, considering how many illegal things people can and do talk about every day.

I've been compared to an antebellum slave owner, a Nazi soldier, a pedophile, and a god. All because I said, "Hey, I don't wanna be pregnant anymore. I'm gonna have a (legal) abortion."

Maybe I'm naive or maybe I just can't tap into black-and-white thinking anymore like I used to. I still can't completely get my head around why people flipped their lids like this. The media are acting like what makes this story interesting is the setting, Twitter. They're missing the point. If women talked about their abortions - on TV and in books and in women's magazines and with each other, and with our significant others and friends and children - then tweeting one wouldn't be a big deal. When people say, "You shouldn't tweet about an abortion" I can't help but feel what they really mean is, "You shouldn't talk about abortion."



















* Well, actually they usually write it WHORE!!
** Since I posted this video 5 days ago, it's had over 49,000 views. What is going on with the world? 1/3 American women have abortions.

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Faith Healing Fail

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The Problem with Religion

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Inside Out

Hypergraphia - the compulsive need to write. I've felt so interrupted lately. It's hard to finish a thought or a sentence, much less write a full post. I'm still sad and that annoys me, but trying to pretend like pushing me will somehow make me less sad or stressed or crazy is just nonsense.

My online life is fantastic. If only the rest of my life went as smoothly. I find more and more that I feel most comfortable with either prepared speeches or written communication. I feel like I'm gonna mess up if I say "the wrong thing" and that fear isn't valid for this time and place.

I cut my arm today. I feel like I should be ashamed, but I'm not. I'd originally wanted to slam my head into the wall or cut my left hand off at the wrist. The few minutes it took to pry apart a disposable razor helped me to focus and to calm down. The few quick shallow cuts were more for the sting than anything else. Pain is remarkable for concentration. Sometimes when I feel like a toddler throwing a tantrum, afraid of my own overpowering emotions and down on the floor crying like a child, a little pain makes it better.

And I'm scared to eat, yet I'm desperate for comfort food. I can't seem to figure out whether I want to "not care" about my weight and just enjoy chocolate and life, or whether I want to forego the sweets and treats of the world (and a good deal of the appetizers and main courses as well) to be a size zero. And I'm tired of having to make this decision all over again every fucking day/week/month/year/life. The combination of going out (a lot) more and being on new medications has added about 15 lbs and I'm really not happy about it.

And i don't have the energy to be a fun mom; I just want my kid to be quiet and not have needs in the other room (kind of how I imagine my mom thinking of me.) Depression fucking sucks and I feel like there's no way at all he gets this. He says I'm acting distant - depression involves retreating inward. D'uh. He seems to want sanity or civility or something else I can't seem to muster right now. And it makes me feel like a jerk, but I really don't want to go out. I want to hide in my room, lick my wounds, burn off this weight, and write until my fingers bleed.






I love you ALL.

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What's the point?

It bugs me that people even ask this question.



Biography post coming later today, as well as promotions & the (belated) Charity of the Month.

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Don't Go Breaking My Heart

My eighth grade boyfriend Chris (the second one - out of an eventual eight) cheated on me with my friend Amy Christian*. Apparently she gave him a blow job. I heard this not from him, and certainly not from her, but seeing as how she had done it during choir class, on her knees while everyone stood around her singing, I heard about it from quite a few people. (This was before everyone had a camera phone, so I was spared at least from seeing it myself.)

I came to school the next day, filled with righteous indignation and wearing my sexiest dress. I had only just started wearing dresses again that year. I stopped as soon as I quit going to Christian school, and quit being required to wear one on Wednesdays for Chapel.

He knew I knew. How could I not? He stood there in front of me on the courtyard where we had sat together with our friends, where he had felt me up under the table while we laughed and joked and talked about music and how much our parents sucked. Chris stood there begging an apology with his face, and trying to foist a small white teddy bear holding a red plush heart on me. He squeezed it and it let out a high and tinny sound, like a singing birthday card or the music in a Japanese Nintendo game.

I didn't even have words. My rage was primal, animal. It wasn't the kind of rage that spoke; it was the kind that growled. I snatched the bear and snarled at him, then flounced off to my locker. Did he seriously think I would forgive him if he bought me some gas station teddy bear with his cigarette money? Not only was that totally insulting, almost more than the blow job even, but the damn thing sounded annoying. Somehow I made it through that day, and onto the bus home from school. I kept myself busy, watching TRL and talking on the phone or else chatting with people on AIM.

My mom was out of town then. She has gone to at least two conferences a year for as long as I can remember. Even as a grad student, my mom missed Easter every single year, because an annual conference is held that week, and it's cheapest to fly on Easter Sunday. My sister Esther and I weren't very close at that point, and we each sort of kept to our rooms (mine a 10' by 10' office and hers a 10' x 16' bedroom the same size as our mom's.)

Esther and I made and ate our meals separately, like always. We hadn't been forced to do family dinners since I was ten, and we both knew how to use the microwave. It wouldn't have occurred to me that eating the meal with someone would be better in some way. (I still get very impatient after I'm done eating, when people want to loiter at the restaurant. The inner diner waitress in me is screaming, "What are you - French?!?")

At bedtime I started looking for some scissors. I found the rusty orange handled ones we kept for opening boxes in the junk drawer. I took them to my small square bedroom, decorated with letters from my friends, taped open, in a desperate subconscious attempt to get my mother to notice me, and notice the danger I was in.

I set up everything I would need on the bed - scissors, a lighter, a hammer, a cutting board, a box of love letters, a trash can, a mix tape, and the bear. I climbed over the pile to the head of my bed by my dresser, and began.

I ripped open the right side of the bear and yanked the small plastic voice box out. I tossed the bear aside momentarily to focus on the white circle in front of me. I placed it on the cutting board and smashed it with the hammer over and over, till the music stopped and it resembled a squashed bug more than a piece of electronic equipment. I leaned over and put the hammer, cutting board, and carcass at the foot of the bed, and settled back into my spot, cross-legged on my pillows in the corner of my room.

I pulled out all the cotton stuffing, throwing it on the floor off to one side. I had to flip the arms and legs practically inside out to get all of it. Having an idea, I reversed the bear. Looking at it, I suddenly felt much calmer. "Huh," I said aloud. "I invertedted it." I thought my stutter was really funny for some reason and I enjoyed for a moment the sensation of actually being as weird as I felt. I calmly and methodically clipped all the hairs coming through the inside-out bear, and when I got tired of that, I used the scissors to stab and snip the limp and hairless remains. I wasn't sure if voodoo was real or not. I certainly believed in sorcery being both real and demonic. Right then I didn't care. I wanted voodoo to be real. I wanted him to know how much he had betrayed me, but I didn't want to have to tell him. I didn't ever wanna speak to him again.

Once there was really no more bear left to destroy, I moved on to the mix tape. For some strange reason, Chris really liked Phil Collins and the song "Groovy Kind of Love" was on the tape. I hadn't heard it before and that it was uncomfortably cheesy. The only other song I remember being on there was "Sweet Child of Mine" by Guns N Roses. I pulled the thin, gossamer strand of audio tape, out and out, unrolling it from the spools. Into the trash can it went.

Now it was time for the night's major attraction - the grand finale. I set my small green plastic garbage can, now half full of cotton stuffing, in front of me on the bed, and took his love letters - his painfully misspelled and written in a childish scrawl love letters. He wasn't exactly a wordsmith and I remember not being that impressed even when I felt all gooey about him, before my supposed friend put her mouth on his cock in front of thirty other kids, and before he didn't stop her at any point in all of this, until after he had come and she had swallowed.

I unfolded the first letter, from the origami-like shape everyone seemed to pass notes in at school.** I held it by one corner and flicked the lighter with my other hand. I let the flame climb onto the paper, and twisted it this way and that, getting the ashes to fly into the trash can. I burned it down till just the one corner remained, and blew it out before the fire could singe me. I did it again. And again. On the fourth letter, I couldn't keep the flame moving the way I wanted it to, and it burned my fingers. I dropped the letter and the fire into the trash can.

Whoosh! The teddy bear stuffing might as well have been made out of lighter fluid or pure oxygen. And suddenly, in a moment of crystal clarity, I realized the exact stupidity of what I was doing. Trapped in on all sides, with a fire in front of me on the bed, I started screaming. "Help! Fire! Water!"

My sister yanked open my door and threw an old plastic yogurt cup filled with water in my general direction. Looking exasperated, she stalked off and slammed the door to her room, to try to go back to sleep. I grabbed the sodden, charred, smoldering remains of the trash can out to the yard, and let it continue melting and warping out there, then set about airing out the house.

My sister never told my mom, or if she did, mom didn't act on the information. I set another fire a year later, trying to perform a magic spell and letting the candles catch my drapes. I had to use the fire extinguisher on that one, and the clean up was a pain, but mom didn't know about that one either. It wasn't until she went to check the extinguisher, six or seven years later, that she realized it was actually near empty.

Maybe my mom should have invaded my privacy, just a little. I certainly shouldn't have gotten away with as much as I did, and she's said herself that she knew about a lot more than she's told me. I had my secrets written on my walls, if only she had looked. I could scarcely have made it more plain to her how very not-okay I was.






Disclaimer: No actual animals were harmed in the making of this memory.





* Yes, her name really was Christian.
** Is this a lost art form now that kids have texting?

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Thoughts on Sunday School

I've started half a dozen posts but I haven't had the hours of dedicated solitude I need for real writing. Thankfully tomorrow I can go register Little Man at the new school & soon he'll be outta my hair.

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Irrational Responder (VID)

I, Angie Jackson, do solemnly swear to do my best to get an actually written post on this blog within the next 48 hours. Till then, enjoy my first video counter-apologetic :D



Isn't the internet amazing?

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Why I Talk About Religion

What do you think, Anteaters? Do you like the scripted Adam & Eve videos better or these rambling memories?

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Epic Bible Stories pt. 1

Go up thou, bald head...



The onnest.

Today's image courtesy of IllustratedBibleStories.ca (Go there, you will laugh. Tell 'em Angie the Anti-Theist sent you.)

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Adam & Eve, the Snake & the Tree

I promise to be a better blogger as soon as winter break is over & my child leave my house for 7 hours a day again. Till then, make do with this.

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Sorry I Knocked

These videos aren't new. I found them the same week I stumbled across WhyWontGodHealAmputees.com and bought a copy of "God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything" by Christopher Hitchens. I found them a month after I realized I'd been raised in a cult, and they were profoundly helpful to me. I think just about everything I've done in the past year and a half can be credited to those sources of inspiration and more. I'm awed by the strength and grace of Aayan Hirsi Ali, of Carolyn Jessop, of Astra & Jenna Miscavige. I'm thankful for the four horsemen, for their thinking and analyzing, for the beautiful words and illustration they've crafted. I'm thankful to the Atheist Community of Austin, for being such a positive example of how atheists, with our disparate views, can work together to provide social opportunities for a marginalized minority.

So here they are, the Sorry I Knocked videos that lit the anti-theist fire in my belly.

I gotta say, the Bengal tiger does sound cool. Also, this poor woman has a ton of JW spam in her comments, so show her some love from ATAT, okay?

Hope everything is going well in Internet World. I'll have my very own wifi connection (instead of the neighbor's hacked one) on the 24th so prepare to be tweeted! (@antitheistangie for those of you not already following)

Cheers!

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Not how I want my story to end

These songs are all about drugs, but they express how I feel about my eating disorder.



I have binged on eggnog and buttered bread multiple times this week. I'm feeling a real loss of control in life, a side effect of all the (positive) changes going on. I've been pushing myself a lot in terms of making hard phone calls and just dealing with hard painful shit and trying not to lose my mind. I don't seem to be winning that battle at the moment. I've slammed my head into the wall twice now. That was something I had really hoped was behind me (although, it is the back of my head that I jerk backwards into the wall.) I know how dangerous and destructive it is, but my anxiety just gets so bad I have to do *something* to bring myself back down to reality, back to a physical reality. I've pinched my arms black and blue this week, and I had muscle tics so bad the other night while running errands I hurt my shoulder from the severity.



I have a feeling everything will be better in a couple weeks. Little Man will be attending his new school; I'll have full internet function (instead of the neighbor's wifi, which I am stealing by sitting in the yard in the rain, with an umbrella between my knees as I type this); I'll be more used to the idea of living with another adult. Specifically a male one.

I don't want to have to talk about my eating disorder with him. It's such an ugly thing. Sometimes I feel very removed.





Goodnight my dear, beloved Anteaters and online friends. I have felt too ugly the past few days to seriously consider a video. I hate what my brain does to my mind. Mental illness fucking SUCKS.

I'm gonna call the doctor and find out if we need to up my pills or change them or *what* but I don't wanna get so skinny I'm ugly again. I don't want to eat through my new dental work with bile. I don't want to exercise till I tear a muscle, or get shin splints, or collapse. I don't want to live on energy drinks, weed, and cigarettes again. I don't want to weigh my worth as a human being on a fucking bathroom scale. But I don't wanna go a pound over 110 either. This blows, but I'm hoping being real about all of this with all of you will help keep me acountable for not screwing up my life again. You can remind me how much I have to live for, and that I'm not just a body, and that I have to stay healthy so I can live, for my kid. You won't be like my mom and just let me starve myself to death in front of your eyes.



...Right?

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Adam & Eve Never Sinned

I can do video now! Come check out my YouTube channel: YouTube.com/user/AngieAntiTheist

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Angie is Blonde

TokBox - Free Video Chat and Video Messaging

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My Online Biology Teacher (cdk007)

cdk007, whoever you are, your videos are totally making up for that crappy public school education I got (compounded with day-age creationist beliefs!)

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Is There a God?

Today I'm taking on EveryStudent.com again (the last one was "Why Pick the God of the Bible?") Today we have "Does God Exist? Six straight-forward reasons to believe that God is really there" written by Marilyn Adamson.

Just once wouldn't you love for someone to simply show you the evidence for God's existence? No arm-twisting. No statements of, "You just have to believe." Well, here is an attempt to candidly offer some of the reasons which suggest that God exists.

Honestly, I don't know of a single atheist who wouldn't love to see the evidence, if it really existed. I can hardly think of a more important question than whether or not a deity is out there (though of course, if it did exist, then numerous questions about its nature and character would follow.) And Marilyn, did you think I wouldn't notice that you immediately substituted "evidence" with "reasons which suggest"? I recognize word shystery when I see it.

But first consider this. If a person opposes even the possibility of there being a God, then any evidence can be rationalized or explained away. It is like if someone refuses to believe that people have walked on the moon, then no amount of information is going to change their thinking. Photographs of astronauts walking on the moon, interviews with the astronauts, moon rocks...all the evidence would be worthless, because the person has already concluded that people cannot go to the moon.

I'll concede that point. Of course, I do allow for the possibility of a god or gods existing, in equal measure to allowing for the possibility of fairies, unicorns, centaurs, and pod people. As soon as there is good evidence, evidence up to the scale and depth of the evidence for the moon landing at a bare minimum, I'll no longer be a nonbeliever. So, don't worry that I'm prejudging the data. I looked at the data, then drew my conclusion.

When it comes to the possibility of God's existence, the Bible says that there are people who have seen sufficient evidence, but they have suppressed the truth about God.1 On the other hand, for those who want to know God if he is there, he says, "You will seek me and find me; when you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you."2 Before you look at the facts surrounding God's existence, ask yourself, If God does exist, would I want to know him? Here then, are some reasons to consider...

The Bible is a ridiculous book. You cannot start a conversation with a nonbeliever with the Bible as your support: the nonbeliever does not accept the truth claims of the Bible. That's why they're not a Christian. I know of several loud and outspoken atheists, Matt Dilahunty of Atheist Experience, Pat Condell of YouTube infamy (he rocks), and myself who all searched far and wide and desperately for God to reveal himself. He didn't (probably because there was no "He" there to begin with.) As for whether or not I would want to know a god, I certainly want to know if one (or several) exists. Knowledge of a god's existence would not, however, necessarily lead to worship. For example, the Christian God is a prick.

1. Does God exist? The complexity of our planet points to a deliberate Designer who not only created our universe, but sustains it today.

Oh, no. We're going the faux science route, aren't we? Tsk, Marilyn, this is disappointing. Because of course, if all this scientific data really did point to a god, you would think that the vast majority of biologists, physicists, and other scientists would be believers. They're not. The complexity of our planet points to the complexity of our planet; it doesn't suggest a god. In fact, the (in)famous "blind watchmaker" ID/creationist analogy has been nicely debunked here by the eminent and very cool cdk007. (If you're not already a subscriber, do yourself a favor and become one now. I promise, you won't regret it.)



Alright, let's go ahead and see what Marilyn has to say on the subject of complexity.

Many examples showing God's design could be given (*cough* invented *cough), possibly with no end. But here are a few: The Earth...its size is perfect. The Earth's size and corresponding gravity holds a thin layer of mostly nitrogen and oxygen gases, only extending about 50 miles above the Earth's surface. If Earth were smaller, an atmosphere would be impossible, like the planet Mercury. If Earth were larger, its atmosphere would contain free hydrogen, like Jupiter.3 Earth is the only known planet equipped with an atmosphere of the right mixture of gases to sustain plant, animal and human life.

Gee, the life that formed (and survived) on this planet is well suited to the environment. Wow, who'd have thought? Oh wait, everybody, that's who.

The Earth is located the right distance from the sun. Consider the temperature swings we encounter, roughly -30 degrees to +120 degrees. If the Earth were any further away from the sun, we would all freeze. Any closer and we would burn up. Even a fractional variance in the Earth's position to the sun would make life on Earth impossible. The Earth remains this perfect distance from the sun while it rotates around the sun at a speed of nearly 67,000 mph. It is also rotating on its axis, allowing the entire surface of the Earth to be properly warmed and cooled every day.

All of this "our planet works out well for us" stuff is supposed to indicate that the earth was clearly designed for us. The way the evidence is presented begs the question. The Earth isn't the "right" distance from the sun; it's the distance it happens to be. Calling it "right" suggests purpose or intention. Likewise saying the earth is "properly warmed and cooled" is begging the question, planting in the sentence the idea that there is a "proper" way for the Earth to behave.

And our moon is the perfect size and distance from the Earth for its gravitational pull. The moon creates important ocean tides and movement so ocean waters do not stagnate, and yet our massive oceans are restrained from spilling over across the continents.

Again, the moon isn't the "perfect size and distance"; it happens to be this way. If it were some other way, this planet would be different. So what? If you don't believe that the sun, Earth, and moon were created for mankind, it really doesn't make a difference. I mean, I like the moon. I'm glad our planet does sustain life and I'm glad to be alive, but I don't imagine that the entire cosmos is here for my benefit or so that my life might exist in a barren sky. I'm not that egotistical.

Water...colorless, odorless and without taste, and yet no living thing can survive without it. Plants, animals and human beings consist mostly of water (about two-thirds of the human body is water)... It has an unusually high boiling point and freezing point. Water allows us to live in an environment of fluctuating temperature changes, while keeping our bodies a steady 98.6 degrees. Water is a universal solvent. This property of water means that thousands of chemicals, minerals and nutrients can be carried throughout our bodies and into the smallest blood vessels. Water is also chemically neutral. Without affecting the makeup of the substances it carries, water enables food, medicines and minerals to be absorbed and used by the body. Water has a unique surface tension. Water in plants can therefore flow upward against gravity, bringing life-giving water and nutrients to the top of even the tallest trees. Water freezes from the top down and floats, so fish can live in the winter.

*facepalm* Sigh, water freezes from the top down and floats. Fish can live in the winter. Two correct statements. The problem lies in the "so". There is absolutely no reason based on evidence to suppose that water freezes the way it does for the express purpose of letting fish live through winter. Our planet is extremely hostile! Most of it does not support life without technology, and the vast reaches of space don't support either. What kind of measly god can only create sentient life on one planet, out of all the planets we're aware of, and only one a fraction of that planet?*

Ninety-seven percent of the Earth's water is in the oceans. But on our Earth, there is a system designed which removes salt from the water and then distributes that water throughout the globe. Evaporation takes the ocean waters, leaving the salt, and forms clouds which are easily moved by the wind to disperse water over the land, for vegetation, animals and people. It is a system of purification and supply that sustains life on this planet, a system of recycled and reused water.

The hydrological cycle is cool. I think probably everyone of us enjoyed that graphic in our science textbooks, whether we thought a god was behind it or not. It's just a cool process, and one that's fairly easy to illustrate and understand. However, it doesn't point to an intentional design for human life. After all, only 30% of the planet is dry land; the rest is under water. Why would God give us such a tiny fraction of a planet, if all this is for us?

The human brain...simultaneously processes an amazing amount of information. Your brain takes in all the colors and objects you see, the temperature around you, the pressure of your feet against the floor, the sounds around you, the dryness of your mouth, even the texture of your keyboard. Your brain holds and processes all your emotions, thoughts and memories. At the same time your brain keeps track of the ongoing functions of your body like your breathing pattern, eyelid movement, hunger and movement of the muscles in your hands.

I love neurology. Seeing pictures of brain scans of other people with OCD really helped me to recognize that so much of what I thought was the "soul" really resides in our brains. For me, it was incredibly healing information: I have a sick brain, and treating it will improve my life, my decision making skills, my impulse control, and my ability to relate constructively with other members of my species. The activity in my brain will change. The insides of our skulls are sharp, and any concussion or serious blow to the head can result in a permanent loss of personality, intelligence and capability, or motor functions. The very fact that brains are so easily damaged suggests to me that we aren't designed by some all-knowing all-perfect god. Surely such a god could create brains with better protection.

The human brain processes more than a million messages a second. Your brain weighs the importance of all this data, filtering out the relatively unimportant. This screening function is what allows you to focus and operate effectively in your world. The brain functions differently than other organs. There is an intelligence to it, the ability to reason, to produce feelings, to dream and plan, to take action, and relate to other people.

I worked for awhile as a typist in a psychiatrist's office. He tested and met with people of the lowest precentiles of intelligence, and with the highest incidents of comorbid mental illnesses. None of them were focusing and operating effectively in their worlds, which is why they came to see him. He determined how severely they were disabled, and his recommendation would determine whether or not they got government assistance, because their inability to function was so great. The brain is very cool when working well, but it is just not true that all brains (or even most) are healthy and working well.

The eye...can distinguish among seven million colors. It has automatic focusing and handles an astounding 1.5 million messages -- simultaneously.8 Evolution focuses on mutations and changes from and within existing organisms. Yet evolution alone does not fully explain the initial source of the eye or the brain -- the start of living organisms from nonliving matter.

The eye is really poorly made, if it's designed. It's backwards and upside down. And evolution is not supposed to answer the question of where the first life came from. There are a couple possibilities being considered by learned men and women of science right now. One of these is abiogenesis, which seems very cool to me.

Part 2 is for tomorrow, kiddies. But don't worry, I'll write another post today. It's great to be back in town and back at my (boyfriend's) laptop :)

*I'm not saying there's no alien life, just saying we haven't found it yet. I'm way too ignorant on this stuff to have formed an opinion yet. Except on Area 51, there I have formed an opinion.

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Pointless Numbers

(Wrote this years ago, but seeing as how I feel as creative as the lint trap of a public dryer right now, I figure it's better than skipping a day of posting.)

I've got a secret
And you're dying to know
I'm not as pretty as you think
Would you love me if you knew me,
All my ugly, dirty parts?
Thirty by twenty-three
Figures you won't understand
And poetry you won't know how to read
Two hundred to eight hundred
One hundred twenty-nine
All the pointless numbers
All my desperate lies
Trying to love myself
Trying to destroy myself
I've got a secret
And you're just dying to know
I'm shaking with nerves
Quaking with caffeine
And it's all I can do to lie to you
To tell you that it's okay
I've got a little secret
And I know you wanna know
But no one told you which questions to ask
Or what signs to look out for
I'm happy cause I moved from three to four
from seven to five
I'm still alive
I'm hanging on
It's all okay
Today
Tomorrow's another story
And you're not sure why you worry
You can't put your finger on it
And my finger is the problem
I've got a little secret
And I'm dying for you to know
I've got a little secret
And I'm dying cause no one knows

And that, boys and girls, is why I don't do secrets anymore. Obviously not *everything* is fit for public consumption (like if it involves someone else, and they're not quite as cool with spilling their insides out in a public forum.)







(I love Daily Motion because they give embed codes that YouTube has blocked.)

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Take Your Pills

Know how I know I'm not the only person worrying about mental illness and funky chemicals in my body? Cause I listen to pop music, or at least I did in the 90s.



The thing is the meds are making me feel all the negative consequences of my former recreational drug use, without the, you know, recreational part of it.



It's not that I don't think I ever had a problem with drugs; it's just not how I define myself. It's not even in my Top Ten of personal demons to vanquish, lol. I feel like I dodged a bullet really. Just around the time things were really getting out of hand, I found out I was pregnant and straightened up and grew up pretty much right away. (Except for all that growing up I'm yet to do.)

Icky played this song for me when we were coming down from pina colada flavored mushroom juice one night. It has always had a calming effect on me since, even though I don't, uh, go out for awhile anymore.



I used to scream the lyrics of this while driving around town, contemplating running away. I just liked the idea of not being home today.

I've loved this whole album since it was released, but this song was one of the reasons I bought a guitar. The lyrics sound like they're about me, or at least the girl I used to be (who is someone I think of a lot while writing a memoir, heh.)



And a look back at my teen years wouldn't be complete without the song that I thought defined me best.



Somehow I feel like this girl and the girl in Lithium all at once. Bah. Thanks for listening to the music with me. I swear these songs kept me alive in high school. Just knowing someone out there could express it better for me was like finding water in the desert. It made it bearable.

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