On Lollipops

Today after lunch a coworker gave me one of these:

A Tootsie Roll Pop, of course; ranked highly among candy considered "classic." No, I do not know how many licks it would take to reach the center. Various studies range substantially among the hundreds. As I unwrapped it, a hallmark of childhood revealed itself. Back then (and surely still now), it was generally accepted that when you see that Indian with a star, you make a wish.

It was at this juncture, with bugs to fix in my remaining 5 busy hours of work at my job on a Tuesday, with my much stricter interpretation of the world around me, and with my decreased tolerance for superstition and nonsense, that I sat staring at this wrapper. I sat staring at my past self, wondering what part of this, and me, I would be taking with me into the future.

In a fond kind of way, I can mutter something to myself and toss it. And that may be just what I do. For now, though, it sits next to me, staring with a single tear falling from its crumpled corner.

Hah, just kidding. I'm not at all bothered by attraction to skepticism in recent years. But this little thing did make me thing far more than a piece of trash should.

On the Best of Times, the Worst of Minds

I've spent 2 weeks at my summer job so far, and it's been fine. I'm hunting down bugs in recently-transported software, and I'm having some success remembering how things work. Everyone's as welcoming as they were the year before, and my worries about the transition to having a bedtime and commuting are fading with time.

Yesterday (I originally wrote this Friday night) was especially good. The night before and into the morning, I met a new friend. We have a lot in common, and I'd like to see where the conversation goes. However, my reaction to discovering this person has revealed something bad about me. It's not something altogether unsurprising, but perhaps another time on that one.

After the usual Mexican lunch, my boss called me in to talk salary. I had a feeling I would be getting an increase and had a number in mind, and his initial starting point was above that. He negotiated it higher better than I did. When it comes to this job, or my abilities in general, I feel in such a weird position to be estimating my worth. I wouldn't call it low self-esteem, but sometimes I think about things in dollars. "That bug fix cost him $200." Is that strange to consider? I want to say I undervalue my abilities, but I often wonder how I have the rate I do.

I'm also not a fan of skirting around issues (unless I'm feeling amorous and poetic), including the hard numbers that I'm talking about. But now, it'll feel like I'm bragging, which is the absolute opposite intent.

Later that day I solved an issue (great) and drove home in the pouring rain (scary at times). I thought it extremely unusual when going under bridges during the deluge. For brief seconds you could look with clear vision at your surroundings, find your bearings, before returning to the storm. Something in me becomes very attracted to unexpected refuge on journeys.

So with the title, you'd be expecting some bad news. Well, it's almost entirely internal, and therefore only as bad as I let it be. But sometimes I truly become fixated on certain things, whether it be recurring thoughts over weeks or wistful moments of trance and longing.

Putting it down in words is already making me cringe and hesitate, but here's an example.

Today I was sitting at my desk, staring at code or watching it compile. During this otherwise empty moment, I found myself slowly, repeatedly interlocking my fingers together. It was truly only half-subconscious. I thought of a shockingly visceral term for it: emotional masturbation.

At this point, the act seems so foreign, so beyond my personal realm of possibility. I picture it, and it's not me. It's a completely different person. I've been like this so long that it would hit me like a brick wall. I wouldn't know how to respond. It frustrates me that I've never been so close to a person to experience such a simple act, much less anything to follow.

I listened to some Foo Fighters on the way home today. This line always makes me think.

"Sometimes I feel I'm getting stuck, between the handshake and the fuck." - Foo Fighters, "My Poor Brain"

I originally had a misquote right there, until I looked it up. Turns out I've been mishearing it for years, switching its entire meaning. Something poetic and inspirational could come from this development, but... probably not.

Again, I originally wrote this on Friday night. Right now, I'm not feeling this, but it certainly does bring me down sometimes. Still, it's not like I'm moping around all the time; it just gets stuck in my mind.

On Being Out

"Out" in the sense of atheism, I should clarify. Sometimes I wonder if my lack of trepidation surrounding themes of homosexuality in humor cause people to question my sexuality. I don't get too bugged about it, but it certainly doesn't help that I don't have a girlfriend to point at and go, "Look, see!"

Hah, but I digress. This one goes out to a dear friend whom I have delayed and delayed in responding to a message on an issue that really got me thinking. I'll be hitting all the points on this message you will not see, but my response will be understood by that person, at least, and hopefully others will not find it too tedious!

I'm an atheist, and I don't exactly hide it. I confront people who stop me to invite me to religious events, and respond when these topics are brought up, and I consume skeptical media. I listen to at least 4 podcasts concerning skepticism and atheism and subscribe to plenty of YouTube channels devoted to science and atheism.

But when this person brought up the fact that she was hiding her lack of belief, that got me thinking. I've heard the topic brought up before about "closeted atheists." I thought it sad, but I never gave it as much thought as it deserved until someone I really knew confessed to me. And, now that I think about it, I'm not fully "out" myself. I walk the walk on campus and away from my family, but I've never said a word about it to my parents. My dad was watching a black preacher last night on TV before bed, too.

We used to go to church regularly at a place in Atlanta, half an hour away. That was until a little ways into high school for me. Throughout the years, I would regularly try to sleep in to avoid getting woken for the weekly praise. We didn't even go to the service, just the Sunday school. I didn't mind it so much when I was there, I guess, but it was an annoying long trek to take each week. Of course, last summer and this summer (starting Monday) have taught/will remind me of the fun 8-5 commute!

Maybe it was the fact that I didn't know these people well enough. They all lived closer to the city and went to nearby schools. I lived far away and had no connection to their goings-on. I enjoyed the trips and camps I attended, and vividly remember the intimate and close connections and feelings of community I had during those times. One of the, I guess "youth", preachers played us a song he wrote that sticks in my head to this very day. Those were formative, fun, and memorable times. In a similar vein, I found my old, personal Bible last semester. I'm going to hang on to that. Maybe I'll sit down to read the whole damn thing for once.

I guess this is a massive tangent, but I've never really put down my rise and fall of religious upbringing. I should get back to being "closeted" about these things.

Before I started to be more aggressive about my lack of belief in nonsense, I felt a pull and a frustration that is hard to measure. The analogue of nonbelievers to the devout as sober people to drunkards isn't without merit. It's so, so hard to feel like the only rationalist in the room and be surrounded by people who believe ridiculous things.

You know what one of the first things that pulled me away from religion was? There were plenty of little niggling reasons, but one of the most important ones to me were fantasy environments in which the people worshiped some fictional deity. Take Final Fantasy X for example. The spiritual nature of that game is completely reasonable and rational. You know why? Because when you use the move "Pray", something happens. Immediately. When you call to the heavens for a magical guardian beast, it comes down and kicks ass. When I pray for good health for my family, I get... no immediate response. Maybe nothing bad happens for a day. But my granddad still died of fucking lung cancer.

There's a lot more to be fleshed out on the topic of video games and my fall from grace, but that's not the point of this post. I'm not staying totally focused, but hopefully this is detailing the sentiments of a fellow nonbeliever to show that there's some commiseration. I hope it's painting a picture of a person who's experienced a lot of relatable issues and annoyances.

I do get disappointed when I encounter or discover someone religious. It irks me to no end that I can't smack some sense into each and every friend who believes nonsense. I am confident that I have the capability to do this, too. That's what's really bad. I've heard every argument for the existence of a god that's come out of the past few centuries (or millennia), and I know why every goddamn one is wrong. I've watched so many debates on the subject, and I know my position is right. This ain't a bald assertion, either! I'll argue with anyone who will be reasonable with the discussion.

I took this enthusiasm to heart once, and it didn't work out too well the first time. I almost lost a friend or two while looking for fights. In a certain way, you want to be bold and say, "Screw them, if they can't take it, they don't deserve to be my friend." ...But if you say that, you'll be losing a lot of friends. It's fucking stupid, it's fucking unfair. I know.

The message I received (which is supposed to be guiding this post) continues by asking how people become religious. I've listening to lectures on the topic, talking about the brain and all that. It's interesting, but hard to remember and relay here. Maybe some people are more susceptible to religion's grasp. I mean, people can be more or less gullible than the average, right? That's all it is, alongside a touch of being able to trick yourself into thinking that the breeze and sunshine you feel on a warm spring morning is God's loving embrace. Don't get me wrong; that's poetic as fuck. But it don't make it true.

"Would you be religious now if you were raised in a more fundamental household?" Maybe. It depends on the degree of childhood indoctrination. Richard Dawkins considers this to be a crime that is not given the attention it deserves, and I agree to a point. It's sad that kids are brought up before knowing to ask critical questions of things that all these stories are true. It's sad that this kind of thing stifles the thinking and potential of people. It's enraging when you see it in action, when you see kids being purposefully deluded into believing harmful lies.

Now I ain't talking about Santa, here. That's another issue that doesn't nearly have the same degree of harm. I'm talking about telling kids that they have something wrong with them, and that they deserve to be tortured forever in eternal hellfire. I'm talking about instilling bigotry into kids before they even understand it.

This isn't the case for all religious upbringings, of course. Not every church believes the Earth was created 6,000 years ago. Not every church clashes so readily and harshly against scientific evidence. My Methodist upbringing was softer, full of life lessons and less about original sin and bigotry. In my mind, I can't even differentiate between the religious camps I attended and the other team-building exercises I participated in on other summers. Sometimes, it's important for me to remember that some people just take religion as a light "granted". They don't think too hard about whether or not Jesus really existed and if there really is a place called Hell. They take the life lessons, maybe pray in a more ritualistic, traditional sense, and go about their day. They're still a problem, because they call themselves by the same name as the most ass-backwards of their religion or sect, but they're more tolerable. And I think that's where my parents are, mostly.

Sometimes it's asked: "What's the point of an atheist group, club, or community? Do you just sit around and talk about your lack of belief all day?" There's a lot more to atheism than just a lack of a belief in a god. Well, actually, there isn't. Atheism is just that. Atheists are a lot more. They might be skeptics. They might have political opinions colored by their lack of belief. They might need people to simply know they they're not the only sober one around. Listen to one of the many podcasts I listen to, and you'll see how much there is to talk about. Enough to write hundreds of books, thousands of podcasts, and more lectures and discussions than can ever be measured.

I suppose I'm fortunate to not have to regularly attend any religious service because of family. Frankly, I don't know if I could take it. I got pissed off at the benediction before my brother's Eagle Scout ceremony. It must be enraging to sit there and take it all... If I had to, I'd mentally take notes. I'd, in my mind (or on paper!), point out where the sermon made logical fallacies or got something wrong.

Of course, having to take someone talking to you about religion or their beliefs colored by religion has got to be tougher. It's direct. The message talks about a conversation with a loved one wherein the person talks about how secular morality can't exist. Now, I could probably take that topic on. I'd point out that religiosity and crime rates are inversely correlated, and how Scandinavia is one of the least religious places on Earth and is a great place to live.

But not everyone can do that. Not everyone is confident enough to stop a person and point out a mistake like that. It's fucking hard, too, and I know it. And to them, the discussion isn't just a political one, one about a favorite sports team. It's a worldview-altering exchange. They'll probably be pretty fucking defensive, because what you'd be challenging is at their very core. That's a tough thing to tackle, and it feels like you're physically punching a family member in the face. Of course, I haven't done it myself. I pray (ha!) that I will be confident enough to challenge a family member when the time comes.

This is so rambling, but it's trying to address several points from a message I received a while ago while getting some other personal junk out there. I hope it's a bit coherent and worth reading. Feel free to reply, email, talk to me on Facebook, if you think I've got it all wrong. Just don't think that I haven't heard what you've said before. That doesn't mean I won't give it my attention, but just know that it's probably old hat.

And if that's a bit insulting, it's because your religion probably deserves a little ridicule for persisting for centuries with such scant evidence.