“Unfortunately and unfairly, atheism is commonly associated with a set of negative stereotypes that are bolstered and reinforced when the primary public representations of atheism are voices of conflict. It frequently seems that atheists mostly make headlines when an organization such as American Atheists puts up a billboard like one that claimed that Christianity has a “sadistic god” and “useless savior” and that it “promotes hate.” When stories like that represent the most visible public expressions of atheism, it’s no wonder many people seem to think atheism is a synonym for antitheism.”
Casual jokes about religion that I may make should not be excused even though sometimes I am well aware that these jokes are mere reflections of my frustration. Just because I don’t believe in God does not make it okay for me to belittle or berate someone who does… especially those who rely on their faith just to get them through the day. I only hope to get the same respect and so therefore, I must continue to improve the respect I give.
I am not an atheist because I hate God or the church. I am an atheist because I don’t have viable evidence that God exists. This does not make me an angry person. This does not make me a Satanist. This just makes me an atheist and with or without this title, my morals are steadfast. I don’t have a problem with anyone who believes in God and I do not wish religion to be eradicated. I just wish the intolerance on both ends would be.
A client of mine crawled under my skin the other day. She ranted and raved about how the media is constantly bashing the conservatives and even told me that President Obama is out to rid the country of Christians and wants to only help Islam. I’m not quite sure where this client of mine can anchor her source, but I was appalled and almost had to chew my lip off to keep from laughing in her face. She went on to offer me a religious book, claiming with certainty that this book spoke to her of me. In turn, I just kept asking her the same questions: “would you like your ends more texturized?” or “how’s that length?” really hoping she would take the hint.
Working in public service is difficult…especially when the client that you spend 3-4 hours with during one service is (very strongly) what you are not: Conservative, Republican, Religious. I can easily veer the conversation in different directions because the BEST thing I learned in cosmetology school is to never talk about politics or religion with your clients.
But seriously. I never want to be that person…the one who just assumes everyone is on her page while she spouts off completely ignorant claims.
We really have to respect each other.
Change starts with me.
|—||Stephen R. Covey (via felicefawn)|
Oh man, best burritos.
From us to you: Wolfe
Now go jam this track, learn those lyrics, and thrash with us at a show.
See you soon.
Check out 1876! I really dig this band. Great music. Great dudes.
get in your car and drive to whole foods
buy non-gmo organic food
let the poor people eat the poison
Honestly, though, don’t go to whole foods, they support proposition 8. Monsanto is an evil corporation, but not because it alters the genetics of the plants we eat….
^^^Another viewpoint on the issue…one that hadn’t crossed my mind.
I have to admit, I’m not highly educated on Monsanto but I do know that we should continuously and vigorously question the ethics of multibillion dollar companies, especially when they are feeding our children.
Most interesting abandoned places in the world
For some reason I believe these places have portals
While I think they’re haunted…
of 1996, 1997, 2000, 2001, 2003…
I can picture it well…the scene usually starts at the beginning of dusk. After the sun has already soaked the tops of the trees and starts to peek in through the lush greenery in the west.
Growing up in the suburbs of Detroit was not difficult. Surrounded by bodies of fresh water, tree trunks tall and thick with wisdom. On the weekday, you could hear those leaves dance around you in the breeze or a cicada buzzing someone near, above and beyond you. Friday snuck up on us and we hardly noticed the rumble of everything surrounding…it was just the song of the lake people. Lawnmowers grinding away, jetski’s roaring down the street, the snaps and crackles of the bonfires…I swear, you could even hear the pop and fizz of a beer can opening from across the lake. We were exactly where we needed to be.
You can put on almost any song from the 90’s and I’ll be thrown right back to this place. The minute I hear Everclear or The Verve Pipe or Matchbox Twenty or 311 or The Counting Crows, I’m dancing in Waterford’s summer blues. I’m sunning on the boat, watching the wake boarders around me in their tricks and flips, showing off for the bathing-suit beauties. I’m sitting next to Amy in the backseat of Andrew’s old beat-up convertible, on the way to the next summer concert series at Pine Knob Amphitheater. I’m on the hill of that venue in my flip flops and shorts, surrounded by hundreds of people all hanging in a cloud of marijuana smoke, watching Incubus and schmoozing beer from older guys. Then I’m gazing at Amy at she bats her eyelashes and then rolls her eyes as soon as we capture our drinks. Or maybe I’m on my parents front porch or laying at the beach, reading my horror novels as the exact opposite is happening around me. I could be on my way to the hardware store with my father, blasting ZZ Top or on the way to the market with my mother, blasting The Barenaked Ladies…all of us singing along, loud and proud, no matter the circumstance.
I could be in my last marching band camp next to the fire…sharing all of stories from the last four years of growing with each other and letting Third Eye Blind sing our worries for us during “How’s It Gonna Be?”
My sister and I might be playing water twister in the front yard or dancing to Paula Abdul in the back yard on the trampoline. We might be swimming at the lake, searching for the marbles in the water that the beach troll would fling at the geese to keep them from pooping in the grass. My brother’s and I could be running around the neighborhood underneath the street lights, playing Capture The Flag with all of our friends and hiding in our handmade forts. The neighborhood just BOOMED with children…catching toads and turtles, running up to the corner store so we could feed salty chips to the fish under the bridge. They didn’t appreciate our soda. Not one bit.
We were free. We were fortunate to be able to share these moments with our friends and family and the music will always throw us right back to the place we learned what happiness and love truly was.
Can we please go back?
I’ve had two failed marriages now which means I’m not the one you should come to for marriage advice. But don’t blow it advice? I’ve got plenty.
Sound Advice. We should all read this.