I feel like all the strands of connection which bind my family together are going to snap.

For each one of us "family" has changed so quickly and drastically that our displacement is both frightening and alien. Luckily, I seem to manage fine in the uncomfortable. Or. I like to trick myself into thinking so.

I've been doing a lot of thinking lately about religion and god/divinity. Not long before my grandmother passed away I realized I was an atheist. I honestly woke up one day and thought: "You know I think I'm an atheist." And not wanting to just be or do something without understanding my own motivations I've been attempting to explore the reasons within myself that lead me to that decision. I do know that my atheism does not have roots in the lack of empirical data (i.e. I can't test it or experience it so it doesn't exist. I think that's arrogant to assume). Part of it I think has to do with the audacity of the human ego. While religion is not exclusively about the "after life" (or what happens to your immortal soul) I think it's safe to call such, a fundamental aspect of religion. I think it's ridiculous to assume through whatever fashion (any religion/god(s)) that we humans are so important and special that we, of all beings, should continue on. In my experience people approach religion in a way that would suggest that they feel obligated to an after life (not necessarily heaven or hell but something). I disagree with this entitlement. Why should we be entitled or even allowed to exist beyond death and other creations not. Because we can name it and attribute it with ideas and specifications that are based in a limited pereception?

What really solidified my atheist ideas though was actually the death of my grandmother. The morning she passed away I remember looking out of my bedroom window and wondering why I wasn't seeing any sort of response from the world to recognize or honor her death. There wasn't anything. I was angry. Later that morning I dreamt of her and felt better. Later still a realization settled on me, a perfect certainty that my grandmothers life and death were enough, and so there wasn't a response in the way I expected because her death was simply a natural process. She lived and when she died she put life away. There isn't anything else afterwards because there doesn't need to be. I feel that all forms of existence are valid. Every pursuit of religion or god is valid as well as every rejection of. All are equal simply because all lives are equal. And in my opinion it invalidates and demeans the value of her life, the value (a limited vocabulary here) we all share, to think that now she has moved on to something better. All the things she loved in life were here on Earth. And to say that there is something else that she should love more than the very experience of living, of eating an apple or loving her family does not settle well with me. Religions in my experience are constantly attempting to categorize and quantify humans as being better or worse than others. This isn't always an explicit implication but to a Christian is there not a difference between someone who is saved and someone who is not? Or if you are a Buddhist isn't there a difference between someone who is enlightened and someone who is not. And is it not so that even if not explicitly expressed there is the idea that one is better than the other? I say that all are equal. If we do have souls you can not measure or compare its value to any other. Which is why the pursuit of religion does not suit me. The pursuit of causing the least amount of suffering, however, does fit my ideologies. I can not redeem myself when I am dead and likely it will be difficult to do while I'm alive but I think I should do my best while I still have the time. It's ironic though that my atheism has been rooted in the certainty of our doneness when we die. In a way: faith.

This is just a rough outline of my ideas and there is a longer more detailed thought process with many of the things I said but I'm tired of typing. I'm not attempting to change anyone else's ideas or opinions I'm just attempting to apply language to the way I've been feeling.

I just walked to school with my swollen bloated ankle that hurts and my class is canceled.

Because this is mostly what I do with myself when I'm at school and not in class.


This year AI's National Week of Student Action is focusing on Guantanamo. So go to the link below and do your part. Or not. However, if you don't probably you suck.

www.tearitdown.org

let me just say that I'm tired of feeling crazy and neurotic and crazy,

let me just say I'd rather not feel that way,

also I wish everyone, including myself, was/were/is/will be radically honest
so we don't have to fucking beat around the god damn bush all the time.

either people will love you for being the entirely selfish insensitive sometimes awesome bastard that you are or they wont.

I bought a grill and we grilled. So uhh that's the news guys.

Was it Christmas just a couple days ago?

As per usual I made several Christmas cards this year and also as per usual I failed to mail any of them because I apparently suck at postal service oriented activities.

Somehow I have to manage to decide a major? Everyone says I have time to make such a decision. The point, however, is this: I don't feel like I have this time at my disposal. There is an urgency involved in this choice. My career priorities from most important to least are: to love what I do, to do it well, to eat delicious foods, to have a long lunch break, and not be entirely poor. As a matter of a fact, how much any respective major/career choice might garner financially is not even something I consider. This really involves I think this fantasy life I've envisioned for myself: I go to school, major in what I love, do what I love wholeheartedly, throwing myself into my work and therefore leading a successful life because I have accomplished three major goals: doing something I love, doing it well, eating delicious foods. The problem is determining what I love to do? Why is it so difficult to definitively determine what it is you love. The only thing I love and know that I will always and forever love is my family. That love, however, is a love of always existing. That love has never not-been and therefore will always be. The other things I love are loves which have not always existed. I love to eat brussel sprouts (by which I mean I fucking love brussel sprouts).

Blah blah shut up.

What creative force drives the universe?

At this point in my life I have no interest in God or the Divine really. Currently it has no relevance or importance to me. Religions interest me in the same way a good book does. It just seems to me that appreciation should be a religion. Compassion and interest in the well-being of all people should be a religion. I don't need to further submit my life to a higher power because I mean I already do that. I like to call it: People make their own decisions and things happen as a result and I can only really effect my own choices so why do I need to call it something other than what it is? I'm sure many people get comfort or happiness from their religion and sure okay more power to them. Does that mean I lack faith? I think not. I have faith that not everything will be okay but some things will. Shall I be cosmically punished for my lack of belief or my non-acknowledgment of God. Well if I am, fuck it, I think I've learned to roll with the punches over the years. I'm sure I'll make it because I do believe in the power of people. The power to change, to better, to understand, to love, to eat, and clean, and cook, and dance, and be.

On the whole, in general, usually, almost always, the trend is I don't really ever post in any journal format whether it be analog or digital (at least not anymore) However, one of my classes requires that I write three journal entries per week in which I usually discuss such captivating topics as Thundercats vs Transformers, Harry Potter Man or Myth, Hives, etc... Because these journals are demanded I approach them with a sarcastic tone since well I don't really want to write them. I have, with great credit to my self-discipline, refrained from the topics which actually interest me like for example: How I thought upon first seeing him that my instructor was actually a very tall manish woman , Why everyone in my class is stupid. Why is there a Leaf-Boy in this class? Why does the girl sitting next to me ever open her mouth because nothing intelligible comes out or at least not anything which would lead me to believe that she does, in fact, have a brain? That's what I want to write about.

You might think that I would write more simply to make it possible for more people to encounter the enormity of my wit. Honestly, I'm pretty much the funniest person I know. Such a declaration, upon review, may seem like a statement based upon ego but I assure you dear reader that I actually am quite funny and that my ego is large.

Also, Rachel are you trying to unnerve me? This very night there have been three loud crashes which seem to be coming from upstairs (where you/she are/is, I presume(d) asleep). All three times I have gone to investigate with fruitless results. If the noises are your/her doing I will be sure to exact my revenge by spending an entire day devoted to scaring you/her at every opportunity. Be warned.

Blah blah blah what is there to write about?

School is going well so far. Next semester should be more fun though. I'll actually get to take two classes with people I enjoy communicating with versus the mass of people in my current classes whom as a whole I usually ignore.

I had a hive outbreak. For three days I had hives. I've never had hives before so on day three I was like "Well this has to be: Death Rash! I'm sure of it." Turns out hives alone don't kill people. The nurse practitioner treated me with a prescription for Zyrtec. Which b.t.w. cost roughly $2.86 per pill! Also no one has any clue why I had a sudden outbreak of Death Rash!

Blah blah

bjork is playing in Atlanta the 17th of September. Anybody wanna come?

Sitting on my grandmothers bed I think: "Where are the cookies?" while looking around I saw my reflection in the bureau mirror but I didn't recognize myself. I was actually a little startled. How strange.

I really did try and mostly I got nothing in return. You only ever get a portion of what you hope for which I suppose is probably more than what you started with so gratitude is due. I am grateful. Blah blah enough of that! life is pretty good I'm not very rich right now but I've got a roof and food and friends and possibilities.

Today there was a gross incident which rivals the poo-water in my face incident. I mean holy fucking shit somebody needs therapy.

All I know is this: My air conditioning WORKS bitches and that man-eating creature in my ceiling better WATCH OUT! because I'm calm, COOL, and collected now (or is it COOL, calm, collected?). Oh yeah! Boo-yah ceiling creature.

All I know is this: there is a creature in my ceiling and it might be large enough to eat me.

Dear Reader,

I discovered that purchasing plane tickets that have similar arrival/departure times but which are also flying from different cities is not an easy task. But! being the science gen(i)us I am I did just that with the plane ticket I purchased. So a "go me I rock" is in order I say. Plus a "oh hey wow I'm going to broke probably" seems due as well.

My grandmothers house caught fire and burned down today. Luckily there was no injury involved and most of her belongings are here in Mississippi. Still, it was a heavy blow.

Nada Surf is a band I've been listening to lately. I first heard them while watching Ha-Buah (english title: The Bubble). Which is another Israeli/Middle Eastern set movie to peak my interest.

Anyway

Love,

Me

Dear Reader,

At night, on some rare occasions, I feel a consuming panic. A claustrophobia. The air suddenly feels thick as though while I wasn't paying attention it gained viscosity and soon will be solid and unbreathable. I can't really say what triggers this feeling. I just know that it's acute and frightening when it does occur. Usually I go outside and sit in the open air. The anxiety becomes manageable and I feel as though I can breathe.

It happened tonight quite suddenly after I finished watching a movie. I think maybe some of the content from the movie may have triggered this particular instance of panic. The movie left me feeling as though all the good in the world was tarnished. As if there was no way to ever combat all the evil deeds that people do and have done and will do.

I realize this may seem dramatic or more than seem may even be dramatic but I don't care because what I said is true.

I wish I could force myself to sleep at a more reasonable hour.

Love,

Me

Dear Reader,

Somehow my family has mistaken me for Mr. Maid Man/Errand Boy/Personal Chef/Bitch. When in fact I fall into the brother/son/grandson categories. I am constantly nominated to cook dinner, shop for groceries, run errands, act as a personal "yes I lost my shit but I want you to find it for me" finder. Probably it isn't as bad as it seems right at this moment but I am simply put: tired. All I wanted to do on this fine Saturday was play my faux scrabble game and eat things. Maybe watch a movie. It is now 11:09 PM and I am just now getting the opportunity to sit and do what I want. I am refusing to clean the kitchen. Which means that no one else will so I'll just clean it tomorrow before I begin to prepare a glorious Easter dinner I have no interest in cooking. My only highlight was the opportunity for a well-timed slightly biting remark to my dad. Here is the story: Before I left for the grocery he asked to examine my list. After a brief moment he picked up a pen and WROTE ALL OVER my personal shopping list in RED ink. Now see I would not go so far as to say that I have OCD but I definitely have my quirks. A grocery list is a special process when shopping for a holiday dinner. I begin by creating a menu. I then make my pre-list which has all the ingredients required to make each menu item. After the menu items are complete I add any extra items and then transfer everything to my official list. My official list is neat, orderly, and categorized. Red scribble has no place on my official list. I was not pleased. After a while my mom yelled: "Just let him go already" so my dad handed me the list and then said: "You have your phone? I'll call you if I have anything else to add" So I said "I'm sure you will." Hua!! My dads response, "Well aren't you just bent on being rude to me today." I just left after that. I must confess that as much as I did not want to go shopping right then the alternative would have been unbearable. The alternative: going to Wal-mart with my dad. Could I survive such a thing? No dear reader I would not have survived any such endeavor.

I bought yogurt and red currant jelly. Yummy.

Love,

Me

Dear Reader,

Today my mom came home from the hospital. Apparently she accomplished the task in a very secret manner because I had no idea she was home when in fact she was. I was in the kitchen busy preparing dinner for hungry demon-children when one of the spawn enters the kitchen to say: "Well are you going to come see Mom?" and I say: "What? I can't go anywhere I have to make dinner." You see dear reader I was under the impression that a hospital visit was soon underway so when my sister aka hell spawn asked me again if I were coming I became agitated and told her to exit the kitchen. She came back probably five or so minutes later to ask me the same damn question so I'm like "GO AWAY DEMON-CHILD!" but then she says: "Well she's in her room! She just wanted to see you!" What??? When did this happen? When did my mother magically appear in her bed? I'm still not sure how but somehow she managed to enter the house walk through the kitchen and to her room without me knowing. Apparently a hysterectomy is actually ninja/spy mutation therapy.

Today I discovered a yahoo game called Literati which is basically bodunk scrabble but online. I'm obsessed. I love word games and this instantaneous scrabble gratification is almost too much.

Dear reader what is up with the ridiculously cold weather? Where are my April showers? I better get my May flowers.

I need a haircut.

Love,

Me