According to folk traditions, it's a tradition that women can propose to men in leap years.
I remember Jerry telling me that after we first started dating, he looked up my name in a dictionary, only to find that one of its meanings was "the ensnarer." Turns out I didn't need to wait for a leap year in order to snag my catch!
Has this ever happened to you? You work very, very horde on a paper for English clash And still get a very glow raid (like a D or even a D=) and all because you are the liverwurst spoiler in the whale wide word Yes, Proofreading your peppers is a matter of the the utmost impotence.
This is a problem that affects manly, manly students all over the word. I myself was such a bed spiller once upon a term that my English torturer in my sophomoric year, Mrs. Myth, she said I would never get into a good colleague. And that's all I wanted, that's all any kid wants at that age just to get into a good colleague. Not just anal community colleague, because I wouldn't be happy at just anal community colleague.
I really need to be challenged, challenged menstrually I needed a place that would offer me intellectual simulation, I know this makes me sound like a stereo, but I really wanted to go to an ivory legal colleague. So if I did not improvement or gone would be my dream of going to Harvard, Jail, or Prison (in Prison, New Jersey).
So I got myself a spell checker and figured I was on Sleazy Street.
But there are several missed aches that a spell chukker can't can't catch catch. For instant, if you accidentally leave out word your spell exchequer won't put it in you. And God for billing purposes only you should have serial problems with Tori Spelling your spell Chekhov might replace a word with one you had absolutely no detention of using.
Because what do you want it to douch? It only does what you tell it to douche. You're the one with your hand on the mouth going clit, clit, clit. It just goes to show you how embargo one careless little clit of the mouth can be.
Which reminds me of this one time during my Junior Mint. The teacher took the paper that I had written on A Sale of Two Titties No I'm cereal, I am cereal she read it out loud in front of all of my assmates. It was the most humidifying experience of my life, being laughed at pubically.
So do yourself a flavor and follow these two Pisces of advice: One: There is no prostitute for careful editing. And three: When it comes to proofreading, the red penis your friend.
That's the title of one of the essays in this week's On Faith. The essay, written by author (and Jewish atheist) Geraldine Brooks, is one that I can relate to. She writes about finding herself whispering a "please help them" when hearing an ambulance cry or expressing a prayer of thanks when presented with something good. Her (and I) don't believe that our prayers are actually being addressed to anyone, but they're there, nonetheless.
And I like the [Jewish] prayers: the mournful, sinuous melodies and the hard plosive consonants of Hebrew words that sounded like a desert wind slapping against a goat hair tent. Theyre my kind of prayers, mostly; little noticings of the good things in life, like the bread and wine, the first crescent of new moon, the dew on the grass in the morning.
Salman Rushdie once observed that theres a God-shaped hole in modern life. I fill it by prayers that go wafting off to no fixed address, and by writing novels about people who believe in a way that remains mysterious, elusive and fascinating to me.
Yes, what she said. I love how some authors are so good at reflecting your own inarticulate inside thoughts.
Prayer has always been an interesting topic for me to explore -- both in my past as a member of faith and now in my days as a nonbeliever. I never felt like God ever responded (audibly or otherwise) to my prayers, and in some of my most ardent days as a believer, I can remember being more concerned about sounding churchy in my prayers than really focusing on contacting God. That's not to say that I didn't authentically pray. I remember staying up for late nights, desperately seeking help or guidance from above.
Eventually I started viewing prayer not as a magic request line to God, but as a way for people to express their care and love for someone else. To tell someone that you're praying for them shows your care and concern. (Though the cynical part of me thinks that it's also a bit of a cliche for some, something to say akin to "How are you?" types of greetings)
Who wouldn't want to believe that a personal, divine being is attentively concerned with your day-to-day activities and worries? I can remember praying for things ranging from healing a family member with cancer, to praying for someone's salvation, to the mundane elements of life -- like praying for help to find my lost set of car keys. No request seemed too grand or too diminutive for me to whisper.
But the more I move away from faith, and learn more about science and the world we are a part of -- NOW -- the more I'm finding that I move away from an anthropocentric point of view, and see human beings as just another animal. And, if anything, I'm finding a greater appreciation for life, and our place in the world. I've made a point of starting to inform myself more about science, whether it's through reading books, watching videos, or listening to different podcasts. I'm learning about some of the specifics of evolution, and I'm starting to see the connections we humans have to the rest of the world and its inhabitants. It's pretty fascinating, but in learning about these connections, it's also making me even more wary of the supernatural. I'm just not seeing the need to believe in the unexplainable when there is so much to explore around me -- that can be explained!
And while the above paragraph may seem like a digression from my earlier musings on prayer, I don't think I'm that far off the topic. Praying, and expecting a God to answer your individual requests, seems to me like such an anthropocentric act. R.K.'s blog I mentioned earlier this week has a post that sort of addresses this issue, in a way better than I could. Here's one excerpt from one of his earlier posts:
Dear God, please lead me to the right job; as a little boy chases a ball toward a landmine. Thank you Lord for leading me to this great job opening, as this little boy, having had his legs blown off, stares down in terrified disbelief.
Sort of gives you a bit of a perspective, doesn't it?
Well, I'm out of time to rant and rave. I'll end my musings with this video, proving the power of prayer:
I made no secret of my burning resentment envy of the vacation plans of my students over Reading Week break. One of them went to Cuba for a week, a destination I'm especially jealous of, if only because you can't get to it from the US.
In class this morning I looked over my students and saw several of them more tanned and rested than their pallid instructor who spent the break in a basement with a 13 month old and a stack of papers. (but I'm not resentful! Much.)
Anyway, as class ended this morning, said Cuban-vacationing student came up to me and handed me a prescription pill bottle, full of sand from CUBA! He said, "I brought you a little of the beach."
For those of you who didn't tune in last night (from its low low ratings, apparently there's a lot of you), here's the Oscar's greatest moments of the night in a concise 60 seconds:
Not only does he make the Oscars bearable (and thankfully, without musical montage), but he just gave Oscar winner (!!) Marketa Irglova a chance to say her thank-yous, despite being a victim of the infamous musical cut off.
Let's see -- post about baby, check. Post about genocide, check. And now, a post about the upcoming Sex and the City movie:
Check.
Yeah, so the whole plotline of SATC includes a bunch of upper-bourgeoisie, plastic, expensive-shoe wearing feminine caricatures, but I do love it so! And I can't wait to catch it on the big screen. (so there)
A quote from one of my favorite freethinkers, Robert Ingersoll:
If the Bible be true, God commanded his chosen people to destroy men simply for the crime of defending their native land. They were not allowed to spare trembling and white-haired age, nor dimpled babes clasped in the mothers' arms. They were ordered to kill women, and to pierce, with the sword of war, the unborn child. "Our heavenly Father" commanded the Hebrews to kill the men and women, the fathers, sons and brothers, but to preserve the girls alive. Why were not the maidens also killed? Why were they spared? Read the thirty-first chapter of Numbers, and you will find that the maidens were given to the soldiers and the priests. Is there, in all the history of war, a more infamous thing than this? Is it possible that God permitted the violets of modesty, that grow and shed their perfume in the maiden's heart, to be trampled beneath the brutal feet of lust? If this was the order of God, what, under the same circumstances, would have been the command of a devil? When, in this age of the world, a woman, a wife, a mother, reads this record, she should, with scorn and loathing, throw the book away. A general, who now should make such an order, giving over to massacre and rapine a conquered people, would be held in execration by the whole civilized world. Yet, if the bible be true, the supreme and infinite God was once a savage.
A little while ago, out upon the western plains, in a little path leading to a cabin, were found the bodies of two children and their mother. Her breast was filled with wounds received in the defense of her darlings. They had been murdered by the savages. Suppose when looking at their lifeless forms, some one had said, "This was done by the command of God!" In Canaan there were countless scenes like this. There was no pity in inspired war. God raised the black flag, and commanded his soldiers to kill even the smiling infant in its mother's arms. Who is the blasphemer; the man who denies the existence of God, or he who covers the robes of the Infinite with innocent blood?
We are told in the Pentateuch, that God, the father of us all, gave thousands of maidens, after having killed their fathers, their mothers, and their brothers, to satisfy the brutal lusts of savage men. If there be a God, I pray him to write in his book, opposite my name, that I denied this lie for him.
Quote courtesy of my stumbling onto R. K.'s blog (whose archives are well worth the read). Thanks for posting it!
Lately I've been thinking about the accusations that are lobbied back and forth in the debate between believers and non-believers -- specifically, those thrown my way as someone who doesn't believe in God.
In response to a post from last week, I've been labeled an "avowed atheist" (terms loaded with negative meaning). It's also been inferred I have no external source of objective morality, so I therefore have no basis to be morally opposed to acts of genocide.
Maybe I'm a bit partial here, but it seems to me that it's a lot easier for believers to slam non-believers than visa-versa.
Granted, there are those extreme examples of atheists who enjoy pushing the envelope and invoking reactions -- last year's Blasphemy Challenge comes to mind, along with some nonbelievers who enjoy desecrating the Bible for effect. But just like not all believers are Jerry Falwells and Pat Robertsons, I'm not talking about extremes from either side.
I'm talking about the everyday implications of how we position our rivals. I know I'm probably just as at fault here, in my characterizations, but here are a few ways I've noticed how Christians usually position nonbelievers (like myself) when discussing matters of faith:
To question God or demand evidence for acts of the supernatural is an attempt by a nonbeliever to become God, or to assume a God-like superiority.
Without God, no morality is possible. Everything becomes subjective, meaningless, and there's no initiative to be ethical. It's absurd to suggest that there is another moral standard outside of a supernatural being. (cue the references to Stalin, Hitler, and Mao)
Atheists are arrogant and angry. Humility lies within the Christian perspective of faith.
We can't know everything, so we need to trust God to do what's right.
It's attributed as a virtue to highlight the shortcomings of reason (what we don't, or can't, know), rather than highlight the accomplishments of what reason has (and can!) illuminate and explain.
A scientific/evolutionary/materialistic explanation is equated to a robotic, impersonal, hopeless and desolate worldview.
A relationship with God is necessary to experience a genuine fullness of love, beauty and spirituality.
It's up to you to prove that God doesn't exist.
Since we don't have the answer, the answer must be God.
Nonbelievers are spiritually blind (willfully or not), and are unable (or refuse!) to view and consider the evidences of God's existence.
Atheists are set in their disbelief, and rightfully can be labeled "fundamentalist" in their views.
By not believing in God, I'm saying that believers are crazy or deluded for having faith.
It's obvious that my discarded religious faith wasn't authentic, otherwise I wouldn't have left it so easily.
And so it goes. I suppose it's the subtle character slams behind these statements that really get to me. While I know that I'm at fault for caricaturing certain evangelical beliefs, I don't try to go out and imply serious moral or character flaws in believers I communicate with.
Most of my friends hold some type of supernatural belief, and didn't drop my friendship after my godless declaration a few months ago. I can respect their spirituality, while no longer sharing it. It's these friends who don't mind my questions (and who may in fact share them!) and it's their support and friendship that illustrates for me an example of authentic spirituality. This spirituality doesn't have to be linked to religious or non-religious views, it's just practical love.
You want a Southern Baptist minister to be the most powerful leader in the world? Seriously? (okay, I know there's about a snowball's chance in you-know-where of him actually securing the nomination, but this guy is still having a decent showing of support. And hey, with Dobson endorsing you, you just can't go wrong!)
Boy are you going to have your asses handed to you in November!
[In other news, yay Obama for sweeping the primaries/caucuses (causi?) today. Bring on another Super Tuesday, later this week!]
It's official. For the first time ever, I've donated to a political campaign. I'm such an Obama fan that I know I'll be devastated if he doesn't get the Dem nomination. Granted, I love being in the party where my two choices are either a black man or a woman for President (versus the Repub's choices of a scary white man or an even scarier white man candidate).
In other news, I found this sticker on the net, and thought it was pretty funny:
I'll support whoever is the Dem candidate, I just hope it's Obama.
For someone who doesn't believe in a supernatural power, I'm awfully fascinated by religion. Of course, some would see that as a sign that I'm fertile ground for becoming a believer again -- but I prefer to think of it as a fascination with human expressions of spirituality and the symbolic acts reaching beyond oneself.
I don't think that because I'm an atheist that it forces me out of any discussion regarding religion and spirituality. Now I know that there are some people out there who think I should just leave the subject alone, now that I'm no longer a "club member," but part of me thinks they want me to shut up so that they don't have to deal with the questions and issues that I raise about their beliefs.
Anyway, yesterday I was listening to a talk by Julia Sweeney on my new iPod (turning 30 has its benefits!), and she brought up the story of Adam and Eve. Sweeney is also a non-believer, but she knows how important it is to educate her little one in knowledge of religion and myths, so she told her little girl the story of Adam and Eve.
I really like what Sweeney said here:
So I read that chapter of Genesis again. You know, I've gone through my whole story. I just knew vaguely what the Genesis story was. Then I took a bible study class. Then I was horrified by the bible. Then I read comparative religion. The story turns up here and there and everywhere. You can't turn around without seeing that story somewhere in the world. But I just haven't looked at it for a few years.
So today I read it again, and it is so beautiful. That story is so obviously about enlightenment. It is so obviously about human beings becoming aware that they're conscious and they are going to die and that they are naked and that they can do good and bad to each other. Even when God says, "From now on, Adam, you have to eat from the soil, from your crops," it's such a beautiful story about us learning how to till the land and farming.
How did that beautiful story get so fucked up?!
It's such a great enlightenment story. It's about saying goodbye to God. It's about saying, "I'm eating the apple. And now I take the consequences of eating the apple. I know I'm going to die. And I know that I can do right and wrong. And I know I have to cooperate and have pain in childbirth. I'm aware of it. I'm not an animal that isn't aware of those things."
I was just arrested by the beauty of that.
What a reversal of how I was raised to view that Bible story. Growing up, it was always viewed as a tragedy and all of humankind was punished because of Adam and Eve's "disobedience." But now that I can view these stories in the Bible from a more detached position (without having to worry about any eternal theological consequences), I'm looking at the Bible in such a different way.
Take the story of Thomas the disciple, or "Thomas the doubter" as I was taught, growing up. His story of demanding physical evidence of Christ's resurrection was always viewed as a personal weakness of character. How dare he demand proof for such an extraordinary act?! He should just have "faith" that Christ was risen again. Yet nowadays when I think of that story, I admire Thomas for voicing his doubts and requesting evidence. You know that he wasn't the only disciple who was wondering what the heck was going on -- he was just the one with enough courage to speak up and ask for the proof!
On the opposite side of things, some stories that were admirable and fun to read when I was young now leave a bad taste in my mouth. When I think of Noah's Arc, I don't think of those cute animals walking up the arc's plank two-by-two, but instead of think of the genocides of the humans and animals left on the Earth as Noah sailed away. (and don't even get me started on how creepy of a choice it is to decorate your baby's nursery in such a motif!)
I can't view the plagues of Moses and Egypt in the same detached way, because they represent the torturing of innocent people, just so God could prove a point.
And on and on it goes. Luckily I no longer have to believe these stories as being literally true, but even in its metaphorical sense, a lot in the Bible aren't the same harmless myths I once considered.
I know I've already outed myself as a support of Obama, but what other candidate could have such inspiring words to back a song? While I don't mind Hillary, she doesn't nearly move me (inspirationally or rhetorically) like Obama does. I would rather listen to him for the next four years than her -- and don't even get me started on how depressing it would be to have to put up with another Republican in the White House.
My favorite moment from last night's debate -- Hillary was asked to address the issue of political dynasties (Bush Sr/Bush Jr = 12 years, Clinton = 8 years). I LOVE how she ends her answer.
Granted, I'm still for Obama, but after last night's debate I can honestly say I could wholeheartedly support either candidate. Last night when Clinton and Obama started talking about immigration issues, I was *so* proud that I'm a Democrat. Whenever I hear the Repubs talk of deportation and law-enforcements, I just cringe. While I agree that illegal immigration needs to be stemmed, I don't think it doesn't have to be inhumane in the process.
