Well I'm single.
It's bittersweet.
I was in a relationship for five and a half years to a wonderful woman. But she couldn't deal with her issues and wanted me to marry into them. I tried to communicate to her that I wouldn't marry into them, but she just didn't get it. I just couldn't do it anymore. It broke my heart to do it...but I was miserable. So I had to. I had to be an asshole. I had to break the promises I made to her. I had to make her cry. I had to break her heart, because mine had been broken for years.
I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but I'm sad for her.
Goddamn the pusher man.
Oh, and as a result of this my trip to Israel is off. Boo. Have to wait til next year now.
Hoorah for life. Fuck it.
It's bittersweet.
I was in a relationship for five and a half years to a wonderful woman. But she couldn't deal with her issues and wanted me to marry into them. I tried to communicate to her that I wouldn't marry into them, but she just didn't get it. I just couldn't do it anymore. It broke my heart to do it...but I was miserable. So I had to. I had to be an asshole. I had to break the promises I made to her. I had to make her cry. I had to break her heart, because mine had been broken for years.
I feel like a weight has been lifted from my shoulders, but I'm sad for her.
Goddamn the pusher man.
Oh, and as a result of this my trip to Israel is off. Boo. Have to wait til next year now.
Hoorah for life. Fuck it.
Ok peeps...show your love!
I just started uploading my story onto wattpad.com. Check it out! Vote for it! Like it! Support the little guy!
Thanks lovelies!
XoXo
http://www.wattpad.com/user/lmlease
I just started uploading my story onto wattpad.com. Check it out! Vote for it! Like it! Support the little guy!
Thanks lovelies!
XoXo
http://www.wattpad.com/user/lmlease
Beethoven rocks...especially when you are trying to scheme the schemes of a madman.
I'm taking a pause from writing...I've been writing my novel for hours now (since 6:30 pm...it's now midnight plus 59)...3,348 words tonight. Hurrah! Now I'm scheming my bad guy's next move...and what a better piece of music to do it to then Beethoven's Symphony 7 in A major. Listen to it. You've probably heard it before, especially if you've seen a certain movie with Monica Belluci...
I personally find it the perfect bad guy plotting to take over the world music....
Perfect madman music!
I'm taking a pause from writing...I've been writing my novel for hours now (since 6:30 pm...it's now midnight plus 59)...3,348 words tonight. Hurrah! Now I'm scheming my bad guy's next move...and what a better piece of music to do it to then Beethoven's Symphony 7 in A major. Listen to it. You've probably heard it before, especially if you've seen a certain movie with Monica Belluci...
I personally find it the perfect bad guy plotting to take over the world music....
Perfect madman music!So here's an excerpt of what I just wrote. I'd love some comments and feedback...
EVERY YEAR, pharmaceutical companies produce new flu vaccines. The influenza virus mutates and makes the previous vaccine ineffective against the new strain, requiring a new one to be developed. The major pharmaceutical companies are highly skilled in rapid analysis of the new strain for that year and equally rapid development of a vaccine to combat it. Such a constant need for new research and production of new vaccines can naturally become burdensome to pharmaceutical companies’ accountants. Thus, the larger companies, such as Jennings-Samson-Biggs, continue to research possibilities for a universal flu vaccine that would not require alteration annually.
It was common knowledge that the La Jolla research laboratory of JSB had a rather large department dedicated to research and development of such a universal flu vaccine. JSB made regular announcements about the Special Research Department’s progress on the vaccine, particularly for the purpose of pleasing its stockholders and to entice new investors. There was never a question of the company’s willingness to cooperate with regulatory agencies, such as the Center for Disease Control or the Food and Drug Administration. JSB was very public and very open about all of its activities, especially influenza research. The only thing about JSB that could possibly raise an eyebrow was its contract with Praetorian International Security.
As with any company, no matter how open it wishes to be, there is a need for security of trade secrets. Jennings-Samson-Biggs took its security very seriously. Chairman of the Board and founder of the company Walter Jennings wanted JSB to be the first company to be able to market the universal flu vaccine once it was successfully developed. So in order to ensure the security of JSB’s trade secrets, Jennings contracted the largest and most reliable security company in the world: Praetorian.
That was the story that Walter Jennings would tell if anyone ever raised questions.
His truth was only slightly different. It was necessary to lie, if ever questioned, due to the controversy that his understanding of the truth would probably cause. Jennings knew that liberal reporters and politicians would blow everything out of proportion and make accusations that it was a step toward an Orwellian dictatorship. But Jennings understood why a few hundred thousand nanobots needed to be put in the new flu vaccine that would be distributed this year. The military didn’t want any more videos of its soldiers being executed by Islamic militants appearing on the internet.
It had all been decided a year ago at a Council for Domestic Affairs conference. Falchion Industries had taken a cancer fighting nanobot and modified it to lie dormant until activated by a satellite. Minutes after a troop was discovered to be missing the military would be able to pinpoint their exact location from the nanobot’s signal. The military wanted to give it to all combat troops, but the foresight of the generals who knew about the project made them understand that such an endeavor would cause a stir of controversy amongst the liberals. The Reverend John LaDell had suggested at the conference that the nanobot be covertly delivered through the flu vaccine that was mandatory for all military members. Walter Jennings, himself a Vietnam veteran, was a fervent patriot. He loathed the fact that soldiers were being dishonorably murdered by terrorists. He liked the nanobot idea and readily agreed to put them in his vaccines. He was not in the least bit suspicious because his friend and confidant John LaDell supported it. Surely, the Reverend would not support anything sinister. LaDell had suggested that JSB use Praetorian security to ensure complete secrecy of the project. JSB was then awarded an exclusive contract to the military for flu vaccines for the next year, to the tune of over fifty million dollars.
That was what Walter Jennings really knew. He also knew that the half a million vaccines given to Reverend LaDell’s Sinai Fellowship non-profit organization for disbursement to the less fortunate, uninsured, and members of the church was a huge tax write off for JSB. Jennings failed to draw any sort of connection to the nanobots.
Someone else had become suspicious. Those suspicions had been voiced to an outsider. Walter Jennings knew nothing about the suspicions, but Praetorian’s security apparatus did.
On the top floor of a nondescript office building across San Diego from the JSB campus, a technician sat at a desk with two computer terminals on it. One of the large screens had a large map of the greater San Diego on it; on the other screen was his Facebook page, where he was having a chat with a friend. The man was one of a handful in the large room that had once been a call center and to the casual observer it was exactly what the room looked like. In fact, the address to this top floor office still labeled it as a call center.
A soft but commanding beep in the technician’s ear made him look away from his Facebook chat and at the flashing blue blip on the map of San Diego. On the left hand corner of the screen, a red bordered window popped up with the large red words inside reading “HIGH PRIORITY.” The technician discarded his attention to the chat, immediately moving his mouse to click on the blue blip. The map disappeared and a document filled the screen that had a photo in the upper left corner. “FARR, DWAYNE,” the technician read. As recognition immediately set in, the technician heard the somewhat familiar voices of Dwayne Farr and his girlfriend in the earpiece of his headset. As he listened, he jotted down on a legal pad the information that was on another window on the screen. The listening device that was recording the phone call was from Farr’s home telephone; the call originated from a cellular device belonging to one Amanda Ryle, who was also on file in the surveillance system; Ryle’s cell phone was on the move, northbound on the 405; the time was 22:37.
“How was your day?” Dwayne Farr asked in a non-committal tone.
“It was good,” Amanda Ryle replied, “I made two hundred in tips tonight.”
“Great,” Farr’s voice was distant.
“You okay?” Ryle asked, “You sound upset.”
“The Special Research lab gave us another crate to send out,” Farr answered, “This one was going to Nebraska.”
The girl sighed, “Are you sure of what they’re doing there? Maybe it’s not what you think.”
Farr’s reply was impatient, “I’ve already told you what the rumors are. Besides, the normal flu shots usually come from the production line. The Special Research Department doesn’t produce anything. Come on, babe, I’ve told you all this before.”
“Well did you talk to your boss about it?” Ryle asked.
Farr sighed, “Yea. He told me not to worry about it. The Special Research people knew what they were doing.”
“Maybe you’re overreacting then,” Ryle offered, “Maybe there are sending whatever they’re working on to other labs for testing or something. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Disaster relief agencies?” Farr argued, “Come on, ‘Manda. Whatever they’re doing in that lab, they’re disbursing it.”
“Was the one going to Nebraska going to a disaster relief agency?” Ryle asked.
“No,” Farr replied, “It was a company with an acronym as its name.”
There was a sigh, the technician wasn’t sure from which end.
“Well if it’s bothering you so much,” Ryle said, “maybe you should report it to someone…like someone above your boss maybe?”
“The only people above my boss are the directors,” Farr explained, “I think I should go to the FBI or something.”
“Do you really think it’s that serious? Do you think they’re doing something illegal?” Ryle asked, “Maybe you should talk to your boss again.”
“He’ll just tell me the same thing, babe,” Farr replied, “especially if they are doing something illegal…”
The technician ignored Dwayne Farr’s voice. He muted the conversation—it would continue recording—and pulled up another window on his computer that was a list of names. He scrolled down until he found the entry “NC CONTROL” and double clicked on it. A dial tone filled his ear briefly until his call was quickly answered by a female operator.
“This is San Diego Center,” the technician informed, “I have an orange flag on a high priority.”
“Docket number?” the operator asked.
The technician rattled off a number from the top of Dwayne Farr’s file.
“What is the nature of the flag?” the operator asked.
“Subject under surveillance is planning on speaking with Federal law enforcement concerning Project Seven. Docket says to advise control and receive instructions.”
“One moment please,” the operator put the technician on hold for a few moments. When she came back, she instructed, “Continue monitoring the conversation. When it’s terminated, immediately forward the recording to control, along with all information concerning the subject. Continue monitoring all transmissions and forward in the same fashion. No report is necessary.”
“Understood,” the technician replied, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” the operator said, “Have a nice evening.”
The line went dead and the technician went back to monitoring the conversation between Dwayne Farr and Amanda Ryle just as they were saying goodbye. After the lines went dead, the technician checked that the recording of the conversation had saved, and then proceeded to forward it as he’d been instructed. He knew, as he forwarded the recording, that something unpleasant was most likely going to happen to Dwayne Farr. The technician certainly agreed—after listening to the conversations between Farr and his girlfriend—that something suspicious was going on at Jennings Samson Biggs, but at $29 an hour, the technician wasn’t going to let his conscience get in the way. All he’d done, after all, was monitor a few phone calls. Whatever happened after that wasn’t his business.
EVERY YEAR, pharmaceutical companies produce new flu vaccines. The influenza virus mutates and makes the previous vaccine ineffective against the new strain, requiring a new one to be developed. The major pharmaceutical companies are highly skilled in rapid analysis of the new strain for that year and equally rapid development of a vaccine to combat it. Such a constant need for new research and production of new vaccines can naturally become burdensome to pharmaceutical companies’ accountants. Thus, the larger companies, such as Jennings-Samson-Biggs, continue to research possibilities for a universal flu vaccine that would not require alteration annually.
It was common knowledge that the La Jolla research laboratory of JSB had a rather large department dedicated to research and development of such a universal flu vaccine. JSB made regular announcements about the Special Research Department’s progress on the vaccine, particularly for the purpose of pleasing its stockholders and to entice new investors. There was never a question of the company’s willingness to cooperate with regulatory agencies, such as the Center for Disease Control or the Food and Drug Administration. JSB was very public and very open about all of its activities, especially influenza research. The only thing about JSB that could possibly raise an eyebrow was its contract with Praetorian International Security.
As with any company, no matter how open it wishes to be, there is a need for security of trade secrets. Jennings-Samson-Biggs took its security very seriously. Chairman of the Board and founder of the company Walter Jennings wanted JSB to be the first company to be able to market the universal flu vaccine once it was successfully developed. So in order to ensure the security of JSB’s trade secrets, Jennings contracted the largest and most reliable security company in the world: Praetorian.
That was the story that Walter Jennings would tell if anyone ever raised questions.
His truth was only slightly different. It was necessary to lie, if ever questioned, due to the controversy that his understanding of the truth would probably cause. Jennings knew that liberal reporters and politicians would blow everything out of proportion and make accusations that it was a step toward an Orwellian dictatorship. But Jennings understood why a few hundred thousand nanobots needed to be put in the new flu vaccine that would be distributed this year. The military didn’t want any more videos of its soldiers being executed by Islamic militants appearing on the internet.
It had all been decided a year ago at a Council for Domestic Affairs conference. Falchion Industries had taken a cancer fighting nanobot and modified it to lie dormant until activated by a satellite. Minutes after a troop was discovered to be missing the military would be able to pinpoint their exact location from the nanobot’s signal. The military wanted to give it to all combat troops, but the foresight of the generals who knew about the project made them understand that such an endeavor would cause a stir of controversy amongst the liberals. The Reverend John LaDell had suggested at the conference that the nanobot be covertly delivered through the flu vaccine that was mandatory for all military members. Walter Jennings, himself a Vietnam veteran, was a fervent patriot. He loathed the fact that soldiers were being dishonorably murdered by terrorists. He liked the nanobot idea and readily agreed to put them in his vaccines. He was not in the least bit suspicious because his friend and confidant John LaDell supported it. Surely, the Reverend would not support anything sinister. LaDell had suggested that JSB use Praetorian security to ensure complete secrecy of the project. JSB was then awarded an exclusive contract to the military for flu vaccines for the next year, to the tune of over fifty million dollars.
That was what Walter Jennings really knew. He also knew that the half a million vaccines given to Reverend LaDell’s Sinai Fellowship non-profit organization for disbursement to the less fortunate, uninsured, and members of the church was a huge tax write off for JSB. Jennings failed to draw any sort of connection to the nanobots.
Someone else had become suspicious. Those suspicions had been voiced to an outsider. Walter Jennings knew nothing about the suspicions, but Praetorian’s security apparatus did.
On the top floor of a nondescript office building across San Diego from the JSB campus, a technician sat at a desk with two computer terminals on it. One of the large screens had a large map of the greater San Diego on it; on the other screen was his Facebook page, where he was having a chat with a friend. The man was one of a handful in the large room that had once been a call center and to the casual observer it was exactly what the room looked like. In fact, the address to this top floor office still labeled it as a call center.
A soft but commanding beep in the technician’s ear made him look away from his Facebook chat and at the flashing blue blip on the map of San Diego. On the left hand corner of the screen, a red bordered window popped up with the large red words inside reading “HIGH PRIORITY.” The technician discarded his attention to the chat, immediately moving his mouse to click on the blue blip. The map disappeared and a document filled the screen that had a photo in the upper left corner. “FARR, DWAYNE,” the technician read. As recognition immediately set in, the technician heard the somewhat familiar voices of Dwayne Farr and his girlfriend in the earpiece of his headset. As he listened, he jotted down on a legal pad the information that was on another window on the screen. The listening device that was recording the phone call was from Farr’s home telephone; the call originated from a cellular device belonging to one Amanda Ryle, who was also on file in the surveillance system; Ryle’s cell phone was on the move, northbound on the 405; the time was 22:37.
“How was your day?” Dwayne Farr asked in a non-committal tone.
“It was good,” Amanda Ryle replied, “I made two hundred in tips tonight.”
“Great,” Farr’s voice was distant.
“You okay?” Ryle asked, “You sound upset.”
“The Special Research lab gave us another crate to send out,” Farr answered, “This one was going to Nebraska.”
The girl sighed, “Are you sure of what they’re doing there? Maybe it’s not what you think.”
Farr’s reply was impatient, “I’ve already told you what the rumors are. Besides, the normal flu shots usually come from the production line. The Special Research Department doesn’t produce anything. Come on, babe, I’ve told you all this before.”
“Well did you talk to your boss about it?” Ryle asked.
Farr sighed, “Yea. He told me not to worry about it. The Special Research people knew what they were doing.”
“Maybe you’re overreacting then,” Ryle offered, “Maybe there are sending whatever they’re working on to other labs for testing or something. That makes sense, doesn’t it?”
“Disaster relief agencies?” Farr argued, “Come on, ‘Manda. Whatever they’re doing in that lab, they’re disbursing it.”
“Was the one going to Nebraska going to a disaster relief agency?” Ryle asked.
“No,” Farr replied, “It was a company with an acronym as its name.”
There was a sigh, the technician wasn’t sure from which end.
“Well if it’s bothering you so much,” Ryle said, “maybe you should report it to someone…like someone above your boss maybe?”
“The only people above my boss are the directors,” Farr explained, “I think I should go to the FBI or something.”
“Do you really think it’s that serious? Do you think they’re doing something illegal?” Ryle asked, “Maybe you should talk to your boss again.”
“He’ll just tell me the same thing, babe,” Farr replied, “especially if they are doing something illegal…”
The technician ignored Dwayne Farr’s voice. He muted the conversation—it would continue recording—and pulled up another window on his computer that was a list of names. He scrolled down until he found the entry “NC CONTROL” and double clicked on it. A dial tone filled his ear briefly until his call was quickly answered by a female operator.
“This is San Diego Center,” the technician informed, “I have an orange flag on a high priority.”
“Docket number?” the operator asked.
The technician rattled off a number from the top of Dwayne Farr’s file.
“What is the nature of the flag?” the operator asked.
“Subject under surveillance is planning on speaking with Federal law enforcement concerning Project Seven. Docket says to advise control and receive instructions.”
“One moment please,” the operator put the technician on hold for a few moments. When she came back, she instructed, “Continue monitoring the conversation. When it’s terminated, immediately forward the recording to control, along with all information concerning the subject. Continue monitoring all transmissions and forward in the same fashion. No report is necessary.”
“Understood,” the technician replied, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” the operator said, “Have a nice evening.”
The line went dead and the technician went back to monitoring the conversation between Dwayne Farr and Amanda Ryle just as they were saying goodbye. After the lines went dead, the technician checked that the recording of the conversation had saved, and then proceeded to forward it as he’d been instructed. He knew, as he forwarded the recording, that something unpleasant was most likely going to happen to Dwayne Farr. The technician certainly agreed—after listening to the conversations between Farr and his girlfriend—that something suspicious was going on at Jennings Samson Biggs, but at $29 an hour, the technician wasn’t going to let his conscience get in the way. All he’d done, after all, was monitor a few phone calls. Whatever happened after that wasn’t his business.
So the lovely Avatarina just shot a new set that should go live soon and was in need of a title...She set up this little competition for her fans to give her ideas, and the winner would get a signed poster of her.
Now mind you, I've had the shittiest weekend I've had in a long time...I came home utterly exhausted and just figured I'd check the old SG Box before catching a nap. And what do I find but a message from Avatarina telling me that she picked my title "Bijou Noir" for the set this gorgeous image belongs to:
Made my day! Hoooray!
Be sure to keep your eyes out for the set when it goes live!
Hope everyone else's weekend is grand!
Now mind you, I've had the shittiest weekend I've had in a long time...I came home utterly exhausted and just figured I'd check the old SG Box before catching a nap. And what do I find but a message from Avatarina telling me that she picked my title "Bijou Noir" for the set this gorgeous image belongs to:
Made my day! Hoooray!
Be sure to keep your eyes out for the set when it goes live!
Hope everyone else's weekend is grand!
I have to work this weekend. We are having an exercise in deployment. We pack up our cargo, we send it through an inspection. We prepare the airplanes for transoceanic flight (but really all they do is take off and land and park on a different ramp). We then stand in a line for a few hours, then sit in a stuffy room and listen to briefings about countries that we're not really going to. Next we load onto a bus for our "simulated" flight overseas to the country we're not going to. We do a bunch of paperwork to prepare for this, which is then reviewed by an anal-retentive inspector looking for a T not crossed or an i not dotted. If too many T's and i's are uncrossed or undotted we fail the exercise. Then for the next month we have to listen to officers bitch at us that we aren't doing our job.
It all sounds as if it should be so simple. Go here at this time. Bring this with you. Sign this form. Make sure the weight matches up on all the copies of your papers. Make sure all the airplanes' discrepancies are annotated and annotated correctly. Easy as cake, right? It's what we do every day, right?
GUESS AGAIN FANS!
It's a giant clusterfuck. It's a huge, confused, disheveled mess. And it makes me wonder, every single time I have to go through one of these exercises: how the fuck has America won so many goddamned wars?
Well, happy weekend....to all of you that actually get one!
It all sounds as if it should be so simple. Go here at this time. Bring this with you. Sign this form. Make sure the weight matches up on all the copies of your papers. Make sure all the airplanes' discrepancies are annotated and annotated correctly. Easy as cake, right? It's what we do every day, right?
GUESS AGAIN FANS!
It's a giant clusterfuck. It's a huge, confused, disheveled mess. And it makes me wonder, every single time I have to go through one of these exercises: how the fuck has America won so many goddamned wars?
Well, happy weekend....to all of you that actually get one!
Just got a new CD by my favorite composer (now deceased) John Barry..."The Knack and How to Get It." The music is great, real jazzy but could have served in a campy 60s spy movie. Anyway, the lyrics to the title song are classic...amazing how acceptable it was back then to be a chauvinistic playboy!
You can say you love her
when planning your attack
But don't let her catch you,
that's the Knack
When you play the lover,
and scratch her pretty back
Don't let her scratch you
boy, that's the Knack
A man chases lot's of girls
and maybe catches one or two
But if you have the knack,
the girls chase you!
When you need a woman
there's plenty in the pack.
But when they need you
boy, that's the knack.
You can say you love her
when planning your attack
But don't let her catch you,
that's the Knack
When you play the lover,
and scratch her pretty back
Don't let her scratch you
boy, that's the Knack
A man chases lot's of girls
and maybe catches one or two
But if you have the knack,
the girls chase you!
When you need a woman
there's plenty in the pack.
But when they need you
boy, that's the knack.
I just read saraberri's blog about a story on CNN and it (as well as the comments that followed) got me thinking...
It is most unfortunate the way that humanity has distorted religion. Anymore, religion is regarded by many as a tool used to control and manipulate weak minded individuals. It's also looked at as something that causes wars and makes people physically or emotionally harm others. All this is true: this is exactly what religion seems to stand for anymore. Religious leaders and followers become more and more dogmatic as time rolls on. "Believers" (though I hesitate to call them that) go on and on about how right they are and how wrong the other guy is. The zeal and bigotry associated with it turns most moderate, free thinking souls against religion, who rightfully refuse to believe that there is a God that condones, moreover encourages, such behavior.
What everyone seems to forget is that the inception of religion, whether you believe it divinely inspired or not, was not designed to do what it now does. Religion was, and still is, there to be a guide to humanity as to how to conduct themselves on this world. Those who interpret it as a guide to oppress and force others to conform to THEIR version of God are themselves the sinners, and their sins are perhaps more grievous than any. What everyone fails to realize is that all the "divinely inspired" religious writings all say the same thing: live in harmony with each other, help each other, do not judge one another, and do not harm one another. TRUE religion espouses peace, love, and understanding. Organized religion does not.
When I have this discussion I frequently get asked two questions: 1) How can you believe in God and creation when science has contradicted the "story" of intelligent design? 2) Can you prove there is a God? Can you prove there isn't a giant invisible teapot orbiting Jupiter?
1) Science has contradicted nothing. Science, it is my belief, has CONFIRMED the creation theory in many respects just not in a literal method. Consider this: if one reads the opening chapter of the book of Genesis, one can find the creation of life on Earth is described in phases. First, it says, God created the Earth. Check. Next, he created creatures in the sea. Check. Next, he created creatures on land. Check. Next, he created man. Check. Sounds like evolution doesn't it? Only not a broken down scientific explanation of it. Think of if you were an ancient man or woman, and some guy who called himself a prophet started explaining how the first life on earth was a microscopic thing called bacteria (which, by the way, 20th century BC man, you can't see), which then "evolved" into a fish, etcetera, etcetera, and now here we are, the human race. 20th Century man would blink at you and say, "Fella, you're nuts!" and walk away. People fail to realize that the Bible, the Qu'ran, etc were written THOUSANDS of years ago, and most of those who heard it were ILLITERATE. So for God to reveal the exact science of creation would have been impossible. Even the prophet to whom he would have revealed it to would have thought it a crazy idea. Science and religion should not be enemies...rather, they should work in tandem, as they are meant to be.
2) No, I cannot disprove that there is an invisible teapot circling Jupiter. Maybe there is. Nor can I prove that there is a God. Nor can I disprove that there is a God. I, however, refuse to believe that all the things that humanity has been able to accomplish are the result of a chemical reaction that is the result of a mistake of nature. I refuse to believe that the gifts possessed by great artists, writers, poets, singers, and filmmakers can be merely reduced to a chemical release in the brain. I refuse to believe that we achieved the feat of crossing the great oceans or the ability to fly into space because of a biological mistake. I refuse to believe that we have been able to build massive cities with glorious structures in them because we are no more than a bag of chemicals. I refuse to believe that those visions, those feelings, and those dreams that humanity experiences are something random. I believe that the feats that humanity has been able to achieve are divinely inspired. I believe that as much as we try to explain ourselves, our world, an our universe, we will never fully understand the answers. We are not meant to know them, especially at this stage in our evolution.
When we can stop killing each other, when we can stop hurting each other, when we can stop judging each other, maybe we'll figure it out. When we can stop hindering our progress by focusing our energies on clashing with each other, perhaps the answers we seek will be revealed to us.
Those are my beliefs. They're mine. I don't think they're all the way right. I don't have all the answers. I won't have them until I die, when either nothing happens or I see the proverbial pearly gates. But these are my beliefs. You have yours. It's our right to believe them. It's not our right to force them on each other.
I wonder how many people will actually read this long winded shit.
It is most unfortunate the way that humanity has distorted religion. Anymore, religion is regarded by many as a tool used to control and manipulate weak minded individuals. It's also looked at as something that causes wars and makes people physically or emotionally harm others. All this is true: this is exactly what religion seems to stand for anymore. Religious leaders and followers become more and more dogmatic as time rolls on. "Believers" (though I hesitate to call them that) go on and on about how right they are and how wrong the other guy is. The zeal and bigotry associated with it turns most moderate, free thinking souls against religion, who rightfully refuse to believe that there is a God that condones, moreover encourages, such behavior.
What everyone seems to forget is that the inception of religion, whether you believe it divinely inspired or not, was not designed to do what it now does. Religion was, and still is, there to be a guide to humanity as to how to conduct themselves on this world. Those who interpret it as a guide to oppress and force others to conform to THEIR version of God are themselves the sinners, and their sins are perhaps more grievous than any. What everyone fails to realize is that all the "divinely inspired" religious writings all say the same thing: live in harmony with each other, help each other, do not judge one another, and do not harm one another. TRUE religion espouses peace, love, and understanding. Organized religion does not.
When I have this discussion I frequently get asked two questions: 1) How can you believe in God and creation when science has contradicted the "story" of intelligent design? 2) Can you prove there is a God? Can you prove there isn't a giant invisible teapot orbiting Jupiter?
1) Science has contradicted nothing. Science, it is my belief, has CONFIRMED the creation theory in many respects just not in a literal method. Consider this: if one reads the opening chapter of the book of Genesis, one can find the creation of life on Earth is described in phases. First, it says, God created the Earth. Check. Next, he created creatures in the sea. Check. Next, he created creatures on land. Check. Next, he created man. Check. Sounds like evolution doesn't it? Only not a broken down scientific explanation of it. Think of if you were an ancient man or woman, and some guy who called himself a prophet started explaining how the first life on earth was a microscopic thing called bacteria (which, by the way, 20th century BC man, you can't see), which then "evolved" into a fish, etcetera, etcetera, and now here we are, the human race. 20th Century man would blink at you and say, "Fella, you're nuts!" and walk away. People fail to realize that the Bible, the Qu'ran, etc were written THOUSANDS of years ago, and most of those who heard it were ILLITERATE. So for God to reveal the exact science of creation would have been impossible. Even the prophet to whom he would have revealed it to would have thought it a crazy idea. Science and religion should not be enemies...rather, they should work in tandem, as they are meant to be.
2) No, I cannot disprove that there is an invisible teapot circling Jupiter. Maybe there is. Nor can I prove that there is a God. Nor can I disprove that there is a God. I, however, refuse to believe that all the things that humanity has been able to accomplish are the result of a chemical reaction that is the result of a mistake of nature. I refuse to believe that the gifts possessed by great artists, writers, poets, singers, and filmmakers can be merely reduced to a chemical release in the brain. I refuse to believe that we achieved the feat of crossing the great oceans or the ability to fly into space because of a biological mistake. I refuse to believe that we have been able to build massive cities with glorious structures in them because we are no more than a bag of chemicals. I refuse to believe that those visions, those feelings, and those dreams that humanity experiences are something random. I believe that the feats that humanity has been able to achieve are divinely inspired. I believe that as much as we try to explain ourselves, our world, an our universe, we will never fully understand the answers. We are not meant to know them, especially at this stage in our evolution.
When we can stop killing each other, when we can stop hurting each other, when we can stop judging each other, maybe we'll figure it out. When we can stop hindering our progress by focusing our energies on clashing with each other, perhaps the answers we seek will be revealed to us.
Those are my beliefs. They're mine. I don't think they're all the way right. I don't have all the answers. I won't have them until I die, when either nothing happens or I see the proverbial pearly gates. But these are my beliefs. You have yours. It's our right to believe them. It's not our right to force them on each other.
I wonder how many people will actually read this long winded shit.
I met POTUS today (that's President of the United States for those of you who don't abla). He came to Oregon to make a speech at Intel. I stood outside freeing my ass off for nearly an hour just to shake the man's hand. Kind of lame, but kind of cool at the same time.
I said, "Mr. President" as I shook his hand. He said "Thank you for your service" and then moved on to the next one. I have to say, his very presence carries much charisma. He's also taller than I imagined.
Kind of cool that I met the President on President's Day.
Anyway, that was my Friday. Now I'm going to look at Aleon's new gorgeous set...what will follow that is none of your fucking business.
I said, "Mr. President" as I shook his hand. He said "Thank you for your service" and then moved on to the next one. I have to say, his very presence carries much charisma. He's also taller than I imagined.
Kind of cool that I met the President on President's Day.
Anyway, that was my Friday. Now I'm going to look at Aleon's new gorgeous set...what will follow that is none of your fucking business.
So I added some more pictures.
Work sucks. They're taking away the fact that we get every other Monday off. Lame. Now I get to spend EVEN MORE time at work. FML.
Stopped writing in the novel and dedicating time solely to research. Currently reading "The Institutes of Biblical Law" by RJ Rushdoony. Why, you ask, would I read such a thing? Well, Rushdoony is the father of Christian reconstructionism. "Institutes" is his/their "Mein Kampf." Naturally, if I am going to create an effective character, I must attempt to be able to think like these zealots. It's tough, for sure. The damned book is over 800 pages, and the things in it are abhorrent, nonsensical, and the epitome of extreme. Basically, it's the Christian version of Sharia law (that's Islam's extremist law...you know honor killings, stoning, getting your head chopped off, etc). I'm halfway done reading it. It's taken almost a month to get this far. I fall asleep reading it every time. I can only take so much. Fucking Rushdoony. This book better make me rich.
Planning a trip to Israel in the fall, September time frame. It isn't a tourist excursion, it's a location-scouting-research trip. Hoping that Egypt will not fall into the hands of the Muslim Brotherhood and launch an attack against Israel. Not only would that ruin my plot but it would also prevent me from going.
SGs, Hopefuls, you are all beautiful distractions...thank you.
Work sucks. They're taking away the fact that we get every other Monday off. Lame. Now I get to spend EVEN MORE time at work. FML.
Stopped writing in the novel and dedicating time solely to research. Currently reading "The Institutes of Biblical Law" by RJ Rushdoony. Why, you ask, would I read such a thing? Well, Rushdoony is the father of Christian reconstructionism. "Institutes" is his/their "Mein Kampf." Naturally, if I am going to create an effective character, I must attempt to be able to think like these zealots. It's tough, for sure. The damned book is over 800 pages, and the things in it are abhorrent, nonsensical, and the epitome of extreme. Basically, it's the Christian version of Sharia law (that's Islam's extremist law...you know honor killings, stoning, getting your head chopped off, etc). I'm halfway done reading it. It's taken almost a month to get this far. I fall asleep reading it every time. I can only take so much. Fucking Rushdoony. This book better make me rich.
Planning a trip to Israel in the fall, September time frame. It isn't a tourist excursion, it's a location-scouting-research trip. Hoping that Egypt will not fall into the hands of the Muslim Brotherhood and launch an attack against Israel. Not only would that ruin my plot but it would also prevent me from going.
SGs, Hopefuls, you are all beautiful distractions...thank you.
OCTOBER 2011
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SEPTEMBER 2011
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AUGUST 2011
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