... I'm here to kick you in the teeth.
Not that I fault you. I'm 40-something years old, and during my lifetime I have witnessed plenty of advances for women. I remember when there was not a girls' recreational basketball league in my Rhode Island town. So, as a primary-grade student who loved basketball and sports in general, I was one of two girls to play in the boys' league. And I was a starter.
A year later, the girls had their own league.
I also remember the girls being marginalized in gym class in elementary school. We were "just girls," after all.
Luckily, my parents gave me the message that I could do anything I wanted. Growing up in the 70s, my mother added to the message something I would not dream of having to say to my daughter today. After "You can do anything you want with your life" she added "even though you're a girl."
It was the 70s--and Title 9 was relatively fresh. So was the pill. And Roe v. Wade. I was riding high on a wave of girl power.
In junior high, much of that came crashing down. The empowerment I experienced as a youngster was replaced by the insecurity of adolescence. Popularity was everything. The size of a girl's bosom was directly proportional to how popular she was. I did not have a name for it then, but I learned my first lessons in "objectification." Overnight, girls were transformed into things. No longer whole people, they were judged by capricious and often arbitrary criteria: bosoms, whether or not they "put out" (which could raise or lower your popularity, depending), their overall appearance including hairstyle and clothes. Many girls were afraid to be too smart, too athletic, or too “different.”
Male teachers in the junior high gave special privileges to the more "womanly" appearing girls. The message was clear: Unless you appealed to a male, you were beyond notice.
But back to the point, this rant is really about how things have not changed for women all that much. Yes, we are better represented in boardrooms and legislatures. Today, there are more female than male college undergraduates.
But …
Our bodies continue to be battlegrounds. We have lost, rather than gained, control over our bodies and medical decisions over the past twenty years. (To be fair, men have lost some control also.) But tonight, as we wait for word of a government shutdown, one thing is clear: This standoff is NOT about the U.S. budget. It is NOT about securing our country’s financial future.
This is a standoff all about control. Control over women.
The Tea-Party soused Republican Congress is holding the United States hostage. They have decided to attach several riders to a budget that should be about THE BUDGET. But these riders overwhelmingly target women’s access to health care. And no, I’m not using the term “health care” as a euphemism for “abortion.” Because de-funding Planned Parenthood *is* about women’s health. Yes, Planned Parenthood provides abortion services. But overwhelmingly, it provides routine annual check-ups for women who otherwise wouldn’t have easy access to health care.
I am lucky to be covered by health insurance. I can see a doctor about virtually anything I need. All women should be so lucky. All AMERICANS should be so lucky. But this is not the case.
So, I implore the Republican-led congress to stop using my body as a battleground. You have absolutely no right to restrict my--any woman’s--access to health care. I frankly don’t give a shit if you “don’t agree” with abortion or think “God prohibits it.” I don’t care if your God tells you to worship trees, or to not wear the color blue. If you truly believe God is speaking to you, you have every right to believe that and I do not begrudge you that.
But why shouldn’t someone *else* wear blue? Maybe they truly, honestly, believe God or their pet gerbil is telling them green is the color to stay away from.
You may have noticed we live on a pretty big planet. And that people the world over have a variety of norms and beliefs. Clearly, humanity is wired for diversity. By cramming your view of how women “should behave” through the legislature, you are RESTRICTING people’s rights. This is clearly un-American.
Take note: I will not let you use my body as a battleground. I will not stand by as you re-interpret history and re-write the meaning of the Constitution you claim to uphold. I will not let you marginalize me. I will not allow you to limit the choices my daughter will have when she is older. I will not have you remake this incredible, bewildering, ever-changing and occasionally frustrating country into YOUR twisted vision of a presumed God-given utopia.
You sit on a precipice, and history will judge you for your actions. Your ancestors will inherit what you sow today. I implore you to do the right thing.
Friday, April 8, 2011
Thursday, March 24, 2011
Well, Now I've Done It
In a rare "moment of clarity"--yes, I'm aware that for me these don't happen too often--I realized I had to leave my job.
I was returning from travel in Washington, D.C. where we had finished holding an annual meeting. I happened to have a huge part in the planning of it this year, so it was particularly anxiety-producing. All I could see was what went "wrong." Even if the wrongs were transparent to everyone else. But I digress.
So, it was really stressful and a lot of hard work. All of this was happening while concurrently at work I was in various stages of proposal development, trying to build a robust social media strategy and presence, and coordinating a whole bunch of this and that. And by "coordinating" I mean shivving a bunch of really smart and busy people to do X, Y, and Z by such-and-such a date. Herding cats, really. Oh and I didn't mention the content I needed to find time to write. There's more, but you get the idea.
I work at a nonprofit, ultimately funded by the Feds. Over the past three years, my take-home pay has gone down as my on-paper hours have been cut. My level of responsibility has gone up, and I've been doing a job at a level or so more than where I'm at for about two years. And then getting 75% of that, even though I'm often working full-time.
But all that wasn't what really did it. My kids need more parental time and attention due to a few factors I don't really want to go into here. It has been very, very difficult for my husband and I to juggle our hectic and pressure-filled jobs while being able to meet our kids' needs.
He, however gets paid about 3X more than I do.
So I was driving home from the airport, and put in a call home to let my husband know I was on my way. It was roughly 6pm. When he answered, he sounded exhausted. It was Friday, his day to work from home and be there for the kids when they got off the bus. Even though they get home at 3:30, he still has work to do until 5 or 6 or whenever his work for the day is done.
"I'm sorry we won't be here when you get home," he said, "but the kids are starving, and I have absolutely no bandwidth to cook for them. We're going to Friendly's."
I assured him it was OK. I was going to go home, grab a glass a wine, and soak in my tub anyway.
We said goodbye. But something was nagging at me. I thought about how when I travel (several times a year, more than he does) how much slack he picks up. And how much he does, generally. And all the things that my kids have been needing from me, as well as things I don't have the time or energy to be properly "on top of." And how his job has often taken back-seat to mine, even though, salary-wise, he is really the breadwinner.
It suddenly became clear: I cannot do this anymore. It is just not worth it.
If my compensation was better, I probably would have held out longer. More money buys things like tutors and relaxing vacations. But I wasn't making enough for these benefits anyway.
So, I gave my notice and I'll be working until June when the kids get out of school. I know that this will be hard. My kids can be a handful. I don't relish the thought of being on a tight budget.
But my family is so worth it. And that's ultimately what matters most.
I was returning from travel in Washington, D.C. where we had finished holding an annual meeting. I happened to have a huge part in the planning of it this year, so it was particularly anxiety-producing. All I could see was what went "wrong." Even if the wrongs were transparent to everyone else. But I digress.
So, it was really stressful and a lot of hard work. All of this was happening while concurrently at work I was in various stages of proposal development, trying to build a robust social media strategy and presence, and coordinating a whole bunch of this and that. And by "coordinating" I mean shivving a bunch of really smart and busy people to do X, Y, and Z by such-and-such a date. Herding cats, really. Oh and I didn't mention the content I needed to find time to write. There's more, but you get the idea.
I work at a nonprofit, ultimately funded by the Feds. Over the past three years, my take-home pay has gone down as my on-paper hours have been cut. My level of responsibility has gone up, and I've been doing a job at a level or so more than where I'm at for about two years. And then getting 75% of that, even though I'm often working full-time.
But all that wasn't what really did it. My kids need more parental time and attention due to a few factors I don't really want to go into here. It has been very, very difficult for my husband and I to juggle our hectic and pressure-filled jobs while being able to meet our kids' needs.
He, however gets paid about 3X more than I do.
So I was driving home from the airport, and put in a call home to let my husband know I was on my way. It was roughly 6pm. When he answered, he sounded exhausted. It was Friday, his day to work from home and be there for the kids when they got off the bus. Even though they get home at 3:30, he still has work to do until 5 or 6 or whenever his work for the day is done.
"I'm sorry we won't be here when you get home," he said, "but the kids are starving, and I have absolutely no bandwidth to cook for them. We're going to Friendly's."
I assured him it was OK. I was going to go home, grab a glass a wine, and soak in my tub anyway.
We said goodbye. But something was nagging at me. I thought about how when I travel (several times a year, more than he does) how much slack he picks up. And how much he does, generally. And all the things that my kids have been needing from me, as well as things I don't have the time or energy to be properly "on top of." And how his job has often taken back-seat to mine, even though, salary-wise, he is really the breadwinner.
It suddenly became clear: I cannot do this anymore. It is just not worth it.
If my compensation was better, I probably would have held out longer. More money buys things like tutors and relaxing vacations. But I wasn't making enough for these benefits anyway.
So, I gave my notice and I'll be working until June when the kids get out of school. I know that this will be hard. My kids can be a handful. I don't relish the thought of being on a tight budget.
But my family is so worth it. And that's ultimately what matters most.
Wednesday, February 2, 2011
You say "Groundhog Day," I say "Imbolc"
In the U.S., today is popularly known as Groundhog Day.* I've always enjoyed this day--not just because it's the day before my birthday (can you believe I'm gonna be 39 AGAIN??) but also because this is the time of year in the Northern Hemisphere where you really notice the growing light.
Our Celtic ancestors throughout Europe recognized this day as the half-way point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. The name "Imbolc" comes from the Gaelic "Oimelc," meaning "ewe's milk." This is because ewes were nursing their recently-born babies, and was considered a first sign of spring. When Christianity took hold in Ireland, Imbolc was transformed into Saint Brigid's Feast Day. Some Christians celebrate February 2nd as "Candlemas," the Feast of Purification of the Virgin Mary.
Romans celebrated Lupercalia at this time of year. Egyptians celebrated the Feast of Nut.
As someone who follows the Earth-based Wheel of the Year, I take many lessons from this celebration. Purification is one theme--some begin spring cleaning on this day. I see this day as a celebration of the Mother-Daughter bond, a la a feminist version of The Myth of Persephone. This is also a good day--if you are an artist--to celebrate your craft.
I will be celebrating by lighting a candle and meditating on my writing. I hope to gain insights on how to handle the fact that I don't actually have all that much time to write, because of the way my life is right now. I will also meditate on how to be both a better daughter and a better mother.
Happy early spring!
* It's also my friend Kathy's birthday :-)
Our Celtic ancestors throughout Europe recognized this day as the half-way point between the Winter Solstice and the Spring Equinox. The name "Imbolc" comes from the Gaelic "Oimelc," meaning "ewe's milk." This is because ewes were nursing their recently-born babies, and was considered a first sign of spring. When Christianity took hold in Ireland, Imbolc was transformed into Saint Brigid's Feast Day. Some Christians celebrate February 2nd as "Candlemas," the Feast of Purification of the Virgin Mary.
Romans celebrated Lupercalia at this time of year. Egyptians celebrated the Feast of Nut.
As someone who follows the Earth-based Wheel of the Year, I take many lessons from this celebration. Purification is one theme--some begin spring cleaning on this day. I see this day as a celebration of the Mother-Daughter bond, a la a feminist version of The Myth of Persephone. This is also a good day--if you are an artist--to celebrate your craft.
I will be celebrating by lighting a candle and meditating on my writing. I hope to gain insights on how to handle the fact that I don't actually have all that much time to write, because of the way my life is right now. I will also meditate on how to be both a better daughter and a better mother.
Happy early spring!
* It's also my friend Kathy's birthday :-)
Saturday, January 8, 2011
Finding 'god' on an Airplane (Part deux)
The story continues
Her story was heartbreaking in many respects. As I really listened, focusing closely on the rest of her face, I noticed the signs of someone who has felt disappointment; someone who has lived unhealthily.
To make the telling of this story easier, I will refer to the woman on the plane as "Jane." *
Born Catholic, Jane never really felt connected to her religion. It simply did not impact her in any substantive way. Her parents were both alcoholics. Jane's mother was also a victim of incest, an experience that was horrifying and deeply scarring and which led to her subsequent alcoholism. However, Jane's mother tried to be a good mother once she had her own children, and Jane recalled some positive and loving moments during her childhood.
Jane did not say all that much, in retrospect, about her own adolescence. But by the time she was a young adult she was drinking alcohol and had became a drug user also. As I recall she hinted that she sold her body also during those dark times. At some point, her own mother "found god" and "straightened her life out," something that for years had no appreciable effect on Jane at all. She was deeply distracted by her own self-centered, destructive life, and thought her mother was "weird."
One day, as Jane relates it, she woke up deeply distraught, depressed, and ready to end her own life. She felt as though there was nothing left to live for, and did not believe that there was anything that she could do to improve her life. "In that moment," she told me, "I decided to call out to God** as a last resort--not really believing He even existed. So I got down on my knees and prayed, 'God, I don't know if you're real or not or if you can even hear me, but if you're there please, please help me.' And seconds later I felt filled with what I can only describe as love; and I felt hope and I realized that God was real and that He did answer my prayers and that He loved me. With His help, I knew I could change my life." She said from that moment on she never touched another drop of alcohol or drugs; that she "cleaned herself up." She began going to a "Bible Church" and learned all about how Jesus loved her and all people, especially sinners. About how He gave his life for all of us. About how we are nothing without Him.
I must tell you that Jane's face was infused with joy and perhaps gratitude as she told me all this. I have absolutely no doubt that she believes she found (her) Truth.
Eventually I asked her a few questions. I offered that I was "not Christian" but did elaborate further; nor did she ask. I asked her what she believes happens to people like me who do not believe as she does. "Jesus loves those of you especially." she replied. She then quoted a Bible passage (which unfortunately I don't remember) but was something to the effect of 'it's never too late--as long as a person accepts Jesus on their deathbed.' She mentioned the End Times. I asked her what would happen to people who did not "believe," or those who are of other religions and may not ever have been exposed to Christianity. She explained that according to the Book of Revelation, truly only those people who are "believers" will live forever in the glory of Christ. All others will spend eternity in misery with Satan, undergoing unspeakable tortures.
At roughly this point in our conversation, I could tell she was worried about me--about my soul. I could practically hear her thinking, she seems like a nice woman with a husband and children... and that she truly did not want me to go to Hell and suffer unbelievable torture for eternity. But she did not say this aloud.
Within her retelling of Revelation, she mentioned that (and I am paraphrasing here, because I can't remember exactly how she said it) that several signs of the Apocalypse were upon us, and that "...in eighteen months when Obamacare forces us to get implants under our skin, True Believers will reject it, otherwise we will not be allowed into God's Heavenly Kingdom."
SAY WHAT??
I honestly don't know how I held it together at this point, but I did. I asked for clarification: Yes--I heard her correctly.
And that's where my tolerance hit the wall.
Up until this point, it was an interesting conversation. If someone believes that God--or god, or an ancestor, or Goddess, or a tree, or James Dean's ghost--saved them from whatever earthly hell they'd been residing in, it is not my place to assume they are right or wrong. I wholeheartedly believe that as a species we are programmed to make sense of the world--or not make sense of it--in a whole slew of creative and differing ways. I don't care what the heck anyone else believes is "God;" nor do I care if someone is an atheist or agnostic. As long as you are not raining on my parade, go and believe anything you wish.
But, this person actually believed that our President and his "obamacare" was 1) a sign of the apocalyspe and 2) that Americans were going to be forced to get an implant under their skin--and that this implant equated to Satan's sign. And therefore, any true Christian would be unable to get this "implant."
(As an aside, the closest reference I could find to anything that may resemble her argument in Revelation is this: If anyone worships the beast and his image and receives his mark on the forehead or on the hand, he, too, will drink of the wine of God's fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath. (Revelation 14:9,10.) Being the Researcher I am, I found that the Internet is indeed full of doomsayers making this same arument in various ways. See for example here and here. Is Verichip a sign of the End Times? No more so than Elvis was in the 50's. Or the Teletubbies were.)
And My Point Is?...
I could go on, about how stories warning of the ill effects of verichips make great science fiction. Which they do. Humans + Forced electronic implants + Mind control = Dystopian gold. But this same story is being told in churches. As though it is Truth, and not thinly veiled racism, fear of terrorism, and good old-fashioned fear mongering. In churches--in places where people should be teaching about love and tolerance.
But I said these posts would be more about what I learned from this experience, and how it gets to the heart of why I write. So here you go...
1) I believe people "find" certain religions to "save them" because they have been badly damaged. Due to poor self-esteem, they think they need "saving;" and because they are damaged they don't believe they have the inner strength to better themselves in other (non-religious) ways.
2) To the point above--clearly, humans are easily damaged. The preponderance of religions that force shame, seclusion, fear, abstinence, etc. is, I think, a product of damaged humans' longings for "betterment."
3) These religions and the social systems that support them then become the "damagers," warping peoples' views of things such as nature, male-female relationships, etc.
I don't think all religion is bad--I consider myself a religious person and also do not count myself among the atheists. But bad religion is bad. If a religion:
* tells you you are innately sinful/unclean/unworthy,
* teaches that humans have dominion over all of creation,
* demands that giving up your very life is the ultimate gift to your deity,
* demands that you must wear uncomfortable or punishing clothing,
* demands that you must suspend reason, do not have the freedom to make sense of the world as you wish, or treat the "other" as lesser than yourself,
...then question whether this Deity/religion truly has your best interests at heart.
I don't pretend to know into the hearts and minds of all people. I don't know the intricacies of what people have experienced in their lives, or what they need to go on from day to day. But I fear for all of us when so many of us are making decisions on how to live, what to believe, and how to treat others based on a faulty perception of what "god" wants of us.
So I write in hopes that I can offer alternative viewpoints to people who have not been exposed to them. I strive to create understanding of human diversity. I do this in a science fiction context, because it is often much easier to tell a contemporary story by dressing it in fantastical clothing.
Jane and I parted on good terms. I believe that she hoped that she had found a convert in me--that she had given me a glimpse of the one "True God" and that I would find my way to him and thus save my immortal soul.
But what I could not tell Jane was that I could never serve a god who demands that we believe Obamacare=the devil. Or that teaches the world was created in six days. Or that tells his followers that they are the chosen ones, and that all others are doomed for their disbelief.
I won't serve a god who tells me to fly airplanes into buildings. I won't listen to a god who says being gay is abhorrent, or that my very body is sinful and must be covered at all times.
I implore the religious among you to be tolerant. I do not presume to tell you not to believe--that is your right. But I ask that you consider the fact that spirituality and religion can coexist with tolerance, love, and reason.
* I never did get Jane's real name.
** I use God with a capital here in deference to Jane's experience.
Her story was heartbreaking in many respects. As I really listened, focusing closely on the rest of her face, I noticed the signs of someone who has felt disappointment; someone who has lived unhealthily.
To make the telling of this story easier, I will refer to the woman on the plane as "Jane." *
Born Catholic, Jane never really felt connected to her religion. It simply did not impact her in any substantive way. Her parents were both alcoholics. Jane's mother was also a victim of incest, an experience that was horrifying and deeply scarring and which led to her subsequent alcoholism. However, Jane's mother tried to be a good mother once she had her own children, and Jane recalled some positive and loving moments during her childhood.
Jane did not say all that much, in retrospect, about her own adolescence. But by the time she was a young adult she was drinking alcohol and had became a drug user also. As I recall she hinted that she sold her body also during those dark times. At some point, her own mother "found god" and "straightened her life out," something that for years had no appreciable effect on Jane at all. She was deeply distracted by her own self-centered, destructive life, and thought her mother was "weird."
One day, as Jane relates it, she woke up deeply distraught, depressed, and ready to end her own life. She felt as though there was nothing left to live for, and did not believe that there was anything that she could do to improve her life. "In that moment," she told me, "I decided to call out to God** as a last resort--not really believing He even existed. So I got down on my knees and prayed, 'God, I don't know if you're real or not or if you can even hear me, but if you're there please, please help me.' And seconds later I felt filled with what I can only describe as love; and I felt hope and I realized that God was real and that He did answer my prayers and that He loved me. With His help, I knew I could change my life." She said from that moment on she never touched another drop of alcohol or drugs; that she "cleaned herself up." She began going to a "Bible Church" and learned all about how Jesus loved her and all people, especially sinners. About how He gave his life for all of us. About how we are nothing without Him.
I must tell you that Jane's face was infused with joy and perhaps gratitude as she told me all this. I have absolutely no doubt that she believes she found (her) Truth.
Eventually I asked her a few questions. I offered that I was "not Christian" but did elaborate further; nor did she ask. I asked her what she believes happens to people like me who do not believe as she does. "Jesus loves those of you especially." she replied. She then quoted a Bible passage (which unfortunately I don't remember) but was something to the effect of 'it's never too late--as long as a person accepts Jesus on their deathbed.' She mentioned the End Times. I asked her what would happen to people who did not "believe," or those who are of other religions and may not ever have been exposed to Christianity. She explained that according to the Book of Revelation, truly only those people who are "believers" will live forever in the glory of Christ. All others will spend eternity in misery with Satan, undergoing unspeakable tortures.
At roughly this point in our conversation, I could tell she was worried about me--about my soul. I could practically hear her thinking, she seems like a nice woman with a husband and children... and that she truly did not want me to go to Hell and suffer unbelievable torture for eternity. But she did not say this aloud.
Within her retelling of Revelation, she mentioned that (and I am paraphrasing here, because I can't remember exactly how she said it) that several signs of the Apocalypse were upon us, and that "...in eighteen months when Obamacare forces us to get implants under our skin, True Believers will reject it, otherwise we will not be allowed into God's Heavenly Kingdom."
SAY WHAT??
I honestly don't know how I held it together at this point, but I did. I asked for clarification: Yes--I heard her correctly.
And that's where my tolerance hit the wall.
Up until this point, it was an interesting conversation. If someone believes that God--or god, or an ancestor, or Goddess, or a tree, or James Dean's ghost--saved them from whatever earthly hell they'd been residing in, it is not my place to assume they are right or wrong. I wholeheartedly believe that as a species we are programmed to make sense of the world--or not make sense of it--in a whole slew of creative and differing ways. I don't care what the heck anyone else believes is "God;" nor do I care if someone is an atheist or agnostic. As long as you are not raining on my parade, go and believe anything you wish.
But, this person actually believed that our President and his "obamacare" was 1) a sign of the apocalyspe and 2) that Americans were going to be forced to get an implant under their skin--and that this implant equated to Satan's sign. And therefore, any true Christian would be unable to get this "implant."
(As an aside, the closest reference I could find to anything that may resemble her argument in Revelation is this: If anyone worships the beast and his image and receives his mark on the forehead or on the hand, he, too, will drink of the wine of God's fury, which has been poured full strength into the cup of his wrath. (Revelation 14:9,10.) Being the Researcher I am, I found that the Internet is indeed full of doomsayers making this same arument in various ways. See for example here and here. Is Verichip a sign of the End Times? No more so than Elvis was in the 50's. Or the Teletubbies were.)
And My Point Is?...
I could go on, about how stories warning of the ill effects of verichips make great science fiction. Which they do. Humans + Forced electronic implants + Mind control = Dystopian gold. But this same story is being told in churches. As though it is Truth, and not thinly veiled racism, fear of terrorism, and good old-fashioned fear mongering. In churches--in places where people should be teaching about love and tolerance.
But I said these posts would be more about what I learned from this experience, and how it gets to the heart of why I write. So here you go...
1) I believe people "find" certain religions to "save them" because they have been badly damaged. Due to poor self-esteem, they think they need "saving;" and because they are damaged they don't believe they have the inner strength to better themselves in other (non-religious) ways.
2) To the point above--clearly, humans are easily damaged. The preponderance of religions that force shame, seclusion, fear, abstinence, etc. is, I think, a product of damaged humans' longings for "betterment."
3) These religions and the social systems that support them then become the "damagers," warping peoples' views of things such as nature, male-female relationships, etc.
I don't think all religion is bad--I consider myself a religious person and also do not count myself among the atheists. But bad religion is bad. If a religion:
* tells you you are innately sinful/unclean/unworthy,
* teaches that humans have dominion over all of creation,
* demands that giving up your very life is the ultimate gift to your deity,
* demands that you must wear uncomfortable or punishing clothing,
* demands that you must suspend reason, do not have the freedom to make sense of the world as you wish, or treat the "other" as lesser than yourself,
...then question whether this Deity/religion truly has your best interests at heart.
I don't pretend to know into the hearts and minds of all people. I don't know the intricacies of what people have experienced in their lives, or what they need to go on from day to day. But I fear for all of us when so many of us are making decisions on how to live, what to believe, and how to treat others based on a faulty perception of what "god" wants of us.
So I write in hopes that I can offer alternative viewpoints to people who have not been exposed to them. I strive to create understanding of human diversity. I do this in a science fiction context, because it is often much easier to tell a contemporary story by dressing it in fantastical clothing.
Jane and I parted on good terms. I believe that she hoped that she had found a convert in me--that she had given me a glimpse of the one "True God" and that I would find my way to him and thus save my immortal soul.
But what I could not tell Jane was that I could never serve a god who demands that we believe Obamacare=the devil. Or that teaches the world was created in six days. Or that tells his followers that they are the chosen ones, and that all others are doomed for their disbelief.
I won't serve a god who tells me to fly airplanes into buildings. I won't listen to a god who says being gay is abhorrent, or that my very body is sinful and must be covered at all times.
I implore the religious among you to be tolerant. I do not presume to tell you not to believe--that is your right. But I ask that you consider the fact that spirituality and religion can coexist with tolerance, love, and reason.
* I never did get Jane's real name.
** I use God with a capital here in deference to Jane's experience.
Sunday, January 2, 2011
Update: I am alive
I just spent a blissful two weeks without substantive work. I also did not write a blasted thing. I did not tweet for two weeks; and only checked email and posted to Facebook sporadically.
I just needed to relax, as much as is possible over the holidays.
Now as I re-emerge, I have Arisia right around the corner--yikes! I still have a ton of reading I want to do for that. (My tentative schedule is at: http://2011.arisia.org/Bios2011).
Also, several work deadlines are staring me down the barrel of a rifle. And I really need need to chug out some more novel content.
Oh, and I have "Part Deux" of "Finding God..." in Draft here in this blog. It's been sitting there for over two weeks. I'll post it soon. Really.
In other news, the Hunger Games series absolutely rocks. Kudos to Suzanne Collins. Read it if you haven't done so yet.
Also waiting for The Wise Man's Fear from Pat Rothfuss. And I'm beginning to tap my foot.
Happy New Year All...
Love, Me
I just needed to relax, as much as is possible over the holidays.
Now as I re-emerge, I have Arisia right around the corner--yikes! I still have a ton of reading I want to do for that. (My tentative schedule is at: http://2011.arisia.org/Bios2011).
Also, several work deadlines are staring me down the barrel of a rifle. And I really need need to chug out some more novel content.
Oh, and I have "Part Deux" of "Finding God..." in Draft here in this blog. It's been sitting there for over two weeks. I'll post it soon. Really.
In other news, the Hunger Games series absolutely rocks. Kudos to Suzanne Collins. Read it if you haven't done so yet.
Also waiting for The Wise Man's Fear from Pat Rothfuss. And I'm beginning to tap my foot.
Happy New Year All...
Love, Me
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