I am agnosticThis post has been started in my head a number of times but I have yet to put pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard as the case may be).
This blog started from an idea I had following another horrible act that was committed in the name of god.
I remain unclear on how religions that have the same basic principles can cause such division but I truly don’t want to understand it. It is much like the star bellied sneetches.
The sum of it as I see it is this:
We want to be different, better than others and when you combine that with our need for community then in fact we want our group or community to be different and or different than another. And then you have trouble.
Oh wait, maybe I do understand it.
I just don’t agree with it.
And don’t get me wrong. I am not above feeling superior. Oh, no. I am pretty sure I am better than a lot of people. A WHOLE lot of people.
But I wouldn’t kill them because of this. (want to, yes. actually do it, no.)
So anyway I was asked recently about my religious beliefs and I was able to answer the question the best was I have been able to – ever. I think that reflects my learned comfort level with my personal answers and my toned down lack of perceived censure from those that don’t agree.
So. Here it is. I am agnostic.
I almost linked to the definition but I won’t be held to it. Like all religious folk my definition of what I am is personal. I am what I feel it is to be agnostic. No two Catholics are the same. For some it means mass every day, for some it means mass every Christmas, maybe. They happily define themselves as Catholic and make no effort to reach the truest meaning of the definition.
And so it is with me.
What it means to me is that I am still asking the questions. I have not made a final decision regarding the God thing. Yet.
I still call on the ever-present deity of my youth when I am worried (in fact I made him some “bargain” promises lately that I am working hard to uphold) and all the time during sex. But for the most part that’s just habit, not belief.
Because I am not sure. While I truly admire the faithful and think that there is nothing prettier than the sound of voices raised in praise of God, I am not that certain.
So I am living my life without God. This does not mean that I get angry when someone says “god bless you” when I sneeze. (you’d be surprised, I was once hissed at for this) But I say something else that means “good health to you”.
And I am trying to raise my kids without God. This means they don’t watch Veggie Tales because I refuse to diminish the importance that some feel for their god by treating it like any other fairy tale. That would be easy. And I rarely choose the easy route.
So I am trying to avoid the issue until they are old enough to understand the nuances. And I will talk to them then. And I will help them find answers to the questions they have. And I will let them explore their faith.
I might not know what I believe yet as far as god goes, but I have faith in my children. My strongest wish is just that they are happy and that they learn to be good people.
I have made the decision that this does not mean they need religion or god as their moral compass. They may choose differently.
And I won’t want to kill them for their religious choice either.only mehttp://firstname.lastname@example.org:blogger.com,1999:blog-30162278.post-55123318351306055752008-12-15T10:12:00.002-05:002008-12-15T10:14:47.088-05:00The best of the breatIn case you were playing along at home.
This is what I have.
Just a little lump of tissue. No big deal.
Just thought you might be interested in the final result.
I know I was.
In other news, I am thinking about moving to WordPress.
Any insight is appreciated!only mehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-30162278.post-47342373605642059022008-12-11T16:44:00.002-05:002008-12-11T16:57:42.150-05:00The Gift of LifeFirst let me say that this is not an abortion post.
Nope. That’s not what I am talking about with my title.
I mean the gift of life that all of you who are reading this are enjoying.
And that’s the key.
There are all sorts of sayings and cliches.
Live each moment to it’s fullest.
Love what you do.
Life is short, enjoy it.
All of those basic stances lead to the fact that euthanasia is illegal.
And self termination is illegal.
And assisted suicide is illegal.
My grandmother died.
I loved her. And I liked her. Which is an important distinction to make.
She was a fun lady. Full of life and stories. Always moving, traveling, dancing, joking: eating life.
That is my grandmother.
Not the woman who sat in her nursing home room for the past years looking out. Not the woman who laid down for the last time almost a year ago and still somehow continued to wake up every morning.
That was not my grandmother.
My heart hurt every time my father called to give me news about her because it meant she was still here. Still hurting. Still this stranger who was not my grandmother.
And so she died. Passed away in pain.
And I don’t believe in Heaven but she did. So I am certain that somehow she is happy and she is with my grandfather.
And all of this made me think of my sister-in-law and the choice she made when she took her own life.
She was not suffering from some mood swing. She did not make the decision in the spur of the moment or take it lightly.
She decided that this was not the world she wanted. She made her calls, made her plans, said her goodbyes and she left.
I can’t agree with what that leaves behind. I cannot agree with the hole that she left in my husband’s heart. I cannot say I agree with her decision.
But this episode with my grandma has made me realize that I can kind of agree with the sentiment.
Life is a gift. But if it doesn’t fit, it stops working, or it’s the wrong size, you should be able to return it.
Speaking of gifts, Christmas is only 14 days away.
Stop reading blogs and shop damn it!only mehttp://firstname.lastname@example.org:blogger.com,1999:blog-30162278.post-59778419260356191982008-12-08T09:12:00.000-05:002008-12-08T09:13:29.141-05:00In the famous words of the CA governor…It’s not a tumor.
But that’s the good stuff.only mehttp://email@example.com:blogger.com,1999:blog-30162278.post-29915474388524105392008-12-05T10:39:00.002-05:002008-12-05T10:55:17.817-05:00BoobiesThis post will explain the ins and outs (get it?) of a breast biopsy.
1. Arrive at testing center worried and annoyed. (and hungry because you couldn’t remember if they told you not to eat.)
2. Be greeted by the nice lady who did your ultrasound after your mammogram (nice).
3. Calm down a little.
4. Disrobe from the waist up. (a nice change from the usual request when dealing with anything female)
5. Wait a little with your tummy grumbling…
6. Lay down on the bed/table in front of the ultrasound machine while the tech checks your boob.
7. Yep, the lump is still there. (no surprise, but – gulp!)
8. Wait for the doctor to arrive…
9. Be amazed at how nice she is while she too pokes and prods your breast. (oops I forgot mention that step six is to abandon any and all modesty regarding your boobs.)
10. Listen while she explains the procedure.
11. Turn away so that you don’t watch the long needle entering your breast tissue.
11a. Pretend that the boob on the ultrasound machine is not yours.
12. Be amazed at the immediate numbing of your entire boob. (what boob?)
13. Watch the ultrasound screen as she inserts a hollow shaft into your boob that reaches into the lump. (how fascinating. I can see the white line as it enters the black mass, neat!)
14. Watch (the machine)as she then inserts the biopsy needle into the hollow shaft.
15. Try not to flinch at the loud click of the biopsy needle as it snips of a portion of your boob. (if your doctor is smart, as mine was, she will have clicked this mechanism outside of your boob so you know what to expect)
16. Try not to flinch four more times as she takes a total of five samples.
17. Don’t watch as she finishes and removes the biopsy needle and the hollow shaft and blood oozes down your booby.
18. Thank the doctor and tell her you will wait for her call in TWO DAYS to let you know what they find.
19. Don’t ask all the questions you have if it IS cancer, you will have plenty of time for that if it IS cancer.
20. Wait with a band aid and ice pack on your poor booby in the waiting room until they tell you to go home.
21. Wait for Monday without going insane.
oh and whine a lot to your husband. They have an amazing affection for this portion of your anatomy and they are sure to be overly sympathetic…only mehttp://firstname.lastname@example.org:blogger.com,1999:blog-30162278.post-26621323897977464412008-12-02T11:45:00.002-05:002008-12-02T11:53:16.283-05:00Six degreesI always seem to get those annoying emails.
The ones that should have been verified by someone, anyone, before being sent to the 1000+ people in that person’s distribution list.
I get those emails from my parents.
Mostly my mom really, but sometimes my dad. (I think I sent my dad the link to snopes enough times that he stopped sending them to me.)
So the fun game that I play with these emails is to drill down to the original sender (usually at least three sender lists removed) and look at their original email list and see if I recognize any names.
I am not sure WHY I do this.
The list I am looking at does not include my mom’s name. Hers does not usually appear for three or more forwards, three or four more email lists.
But for some reason I always scroll through that original listing to see if I know anyone. I usually don’t. And in truth even when I recognize a name I can never be sure that it is actually the person I know…
I also follow the path to my mom.
I look to see who sent it to who, who then in turn sent it to my mom.
Somehow this makes these emails more bearable.
I don’t always do it.
Usually I just erase these pesky emails.
But somehow the tracking of the email path has some fascination for me…
Not sure why.
The new age six degrees of separation…only mehttp://email@example.com