Okay, here’s the thing. For years now I’ve claimed to be an agnostic. I used to be a fundamentalist, but I got better. I didn’t really give up the notion of a God, though, so always went with the agnostic banner, to me meaning that I felt it could go either way and I didn’t know enough to feel one way or the other about it. That was a natural and right position for me a while ago, but no more. Now it’s waffling. Fence sitting. Not being honest with myself.

I’m an atheist. Screw any social stigma that will come from making that declaration (and there is definitely a stigma in our culture toward those that don’t believe in God). The thing is, I’ve come to a point where everything I’ve learned and know points to our existence being the result of pure chance. Order from chaos. An emergent property in an amazingly large universe of coin flips. I don’t believe in God, or gods, because I don’t see where it makes sense. It contradicts the evidence. It’s not because I don’t want to believe, in fact there are days when it would be more comforting for psychological reasons, but to “choose” to believe in the face of contradictory evidence is not faith, it’s willful ignorance. (This is different than belief in the face of no evidence.)

So what’s the point of anything then? Why does anything matter? We each get to make that choice. I choose to believe that how we live life matters because we can either make things better or worse as we go along. Both for ourselves and for others. Since entropy is the natural order, death and decay and winding down, it seems that the best of us are those who build as they go. Those of us who lift ourselves and others up, and win small battles against entropy.

So no more waffling. I’m out of the religious closet.

This important design flaw came to my attention this last week when I had to deal with a fridge that had been without power for two weeks, full of food. The food had evolved. It had become something evil. In all my manliness I could not stay in the apartment after opening the freezer and fridge doors. I was outside in five seconds flat. Had to call a cleaning company to come deal with it, and they were stronger than me.

I also can’t stand the smell of many normal things – chewing gum, toothpaste, cheese, etc. If we gain the ability in the near future to genetically alter our bodies, I will be first in line for nostril sphincters.

(On the up side, it appears that I’m not alone.)

Now I find myself having a flash back as I find myself frickin’ exhausted by the back and forth political hate from people who hate Bush or people who hate Obama, or whatever the name happens to be at the moment. So many voices with so much conviction and so much emotionally invested relative Truth. (I say relative, because it reminds me very much of religious belief where you pay attention to the “facts” that back up your viewpoint and ignore or rationalize away those that don’t.)

The problem is that both sides are right. There’s tons of money that goes into making things happen in Washington. This isn’t new. They just keep getting better at it. They’re also both right that there’s people who are ignorant, hateful, and blind followers of charismatic individuals. We’ve always had these too. Their existence doesn’t prove anything. If there is a conspiracy, it is not a left-wing or right-wing conspiracy. As long as we’re all squabbling over the same old things, we’re too distracted to pay attention to what’s really going on.

Health Care Reform

This too is a part of the recent debate I’m sick to death of. No one is debating whether anyone can have health care. The real point that no one seems to talk about is that of “who’s going to pay for it?” People feel differently about this. Some believe it’s the individual’s responsibility, and others feel that the government should pay. While I like the idea of universal access, I have a problem with thinking the government can afford health care for everyone. We’re already spiraling deeper into debt. Where’s additional money going to come from?

Julie’s interviewing in three states and we’re driving all over the place, back and forth. We have two weeks to get out of the house (we sold it) and find an apartment locally. Then we have to find a place wherever she takes a job, and move all our crap there. Then I’ve got to find the right person to become the main day-to-day person at my Marquette office while I then attempt to get another location up and running where ever we end up. Then I get to spend the next few years driving back and forth to keep business going here and spend time with my oldest three kids. Waaaay too much driving. Not for the feint of heart. I’ll get a lot of podcast listening in.

It’s both exciting and annoying at the same time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I sit on this couch, turn off the lights, watch the storm…

The skies are filled with my mind in another form.

But I’m not God, not even close – we’re not on speaking terms these days.

He got heaven, and I’m left with the change.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Uncle eyeball used to suffer

in forbidden gardens covered over

with the fantasy of excess.

He no longer wears the scarlet letter

but it no longer matters

age has put the harvest beyond reach.

Now every open flower

seems a few perspectives farther away

than he can almost stand.

But next to him is imagination

the talented, subtle, double agent

destined to serve him well.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When it crashes down around you,

it’s not when you expected it,

because it wouldn’t have been a crash

without the surprise element.

Without the panic and open mouth,

it would have just been a bit unfortunate.

So the true disaster tiptoes up

and then laughs and slams your face in it.

You can look for purpose or reason,

but don’t invest too much.

There is no universal fairness,

and optimism is just a crutch.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

You think you are free but you’re not.

Freedom’s just not getting caught

taking and using, stealing and doing,

and having what other folks want.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When I sat down to write this poem,

I had a million things to say.

But now I’m just chewing on my pen,

all the words just ran away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

For a lack of gentle affection

I grow violent

Screaming even louder

Than the heavy metal killing my car speakers

It feels good to ride the darkness

Even though it’s shallow and fake

The rhythm is more reliable

Than the reality of unreasonable relationships

What would it be like to be truly understood

I’m forced to be hypothetical

Trapped by desire and decisions already made

I hate the damn one-way sign

The anger sooths for now

But it’s not going to last long enough

I’d scream again

But it would already be contrived

My emotions are what you’d see in a toilet

Paper, rock, scissors, mind beats heart

Sanity is only an unanswered question

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Not long after I think I’m over you,

I end up staring at myself in the bathroom mirror-

Hating what I see for even letting myself be taken like this.

I am the world’s biggest ass.

The most famous fool.

Everybody knows who you’re fucking,

while you hand me the same old feel-good cover stories.

I try to remind myself it doesn’t matter anymore,

but I guess we’re both liars.

You know I’m almost ready to die for this?

Can you picture me standing here in front of the mirror,

watching my lie of control shatter?

The violent desire to end it all is so fucking huge-

who the hell am I to argue?

One offhand comment from a random common friend

and the image of you opening your legs for someone else

consumes me with a bitter hatred I can’t even describe.

Mine!

God damn it, you were supposed to be mine.

And you twist the knife,

by not understanding why we couldn’t work it out.

Can’t you see what has happened to me!?

I might as well kill myself because I’m already dead.

Betrayal and humiliation and reality have killed my faith

in anything worth struggling for.

There’s no point anymore.

I write even this in some vain attempt to share,

but nobody’s listening.

Nobody ever really has.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

When I was somewhere younger than ten,

I found death in the weeds at the edge of a parking lot.

At first it seemed like just a lost baby bird.

How is a kid supposed to recognize the apathy of the Universe

when Spiderman and Superman always set things right?

Doesn’t the Hall of Justice protect this world?

Bugs crawled underneath the feathers,

but I ignored them and carried it home, dad would know what to do.

I was helping to beat the bad guy!

It was hard to understand when dad said it was hopeless,

That the bird was as good as dead, and nothing could change it.

That day, more than a baby bird died.

I won and got a gift certificate to an online store where I was able to get myself a digital picture frame which should be here any day now. I’m looking forward to it. I can upload pictures into it (a nice wooden traditional looking frame) and have it rotate through them on my desk. I wouldn’t have dropped the cash on it if it’d come out of my regular few dollars, but this seemed like a good excuse.

Even cooler, I was asked to do further creative work for them. It’s not a final version yet, but here’s a larger version of an ad I was working on tonight…

One of these days I’m going to get off my butt and get back into freehand drawing so I can do more logo work. I miss the drawing I did in high school… I get ideas in my head, but sometimes have trouble translating them like I feel I should be able to. Web sites have been a good compromise, because I usually already have the logo as a starting point, and I build off of that. I’d like to be able to bring more of what’s in my brain out into the world though. (Scary thought as that is.)

I used to think that with age this issue would lessen, since the people I’d be dealing with would be less “teen drama” and I’d have my hardened sense of “already been screwed so am kinda used to it” going for me. But, as often seems to be the case, I was wrong. Not only do teens never give up the drama, even when they’re way into the 40’s and older, but getting screwed still really hurts and sucks (when it’s not of the sexual variety.)

Sometimes it’s like a paper cut that won’t heal. Nothing big that would send you to the doctor, but also something that just won’t seem to heal. Dammit. You keep thinking it’s healing, then it pops open again at the slightest provocation.

To all the unnamed people who have treated me like doo doo during the last 10 years of my life, and especially those who have the nerve to play games about it, I have one thing to say to you tonight. FUCK YOU.

Thank you, and goodnight.

Thanks to Dr. Floyd Slotterback I’ve made music a big part of my life. He encouraged me with answering many a music theory question over the years going all the way back to high school. Most especially I owe him for letting the Upper Peninsula Youth Choir perform one of my songs at several concerts. To this day I’ve never felt more taken seriously as a musician as I did then. If all teachers could be like Dr. Slotterback the world would be a better place! He also gave me the reference that got me my long-lasting job at Public Radio 90, where I met several great people.

Thanks to a lady named Barb and a guy named Joe, both who I met at Northern Michigan University while I was a student. Barb (who knew me from Public Radio 90) thought of me for a department web site because I was “that computer guy”. I did a good enough job on that to noticed by Joe in a different department who I spent several years working with on various web site projects. I developed his department’s site as well as many online courses, while I taught myself a lot about HTML, Javascript, and so on. Aside from job opportunity, I got many a good piece of advice from him over the years, and he even helped me move my furniture once.

Through Joe I met Steve who was a faculty member at NMU. Joe recommended him as a the faculty advisor for when I had put together a student group for “The…TRUTH” which is a longer story than is necessary here. I got to know Steve well over the years and he eventually stood in my wedding. We still get together and enjoy beer and the swapping of life stories and sage advice.

Joe also introduced me to UPTN (Upper Peninsula Trainers Network) who needed a site. Though the group itself has floundered a great deal, it was at this group that I met Dar who worked with Northern Initiatives. I ended up creating a site for them, as well as forming a good working relationship that continues to help my business.

About half of my new clients tell me that they’ve heard about me from another previous client of mine. I imagine that if I treated people like poop (as do some businesses I’ve witnessed) I wouldn’t see this kind of interconnectedness.

Lately, because of some negative non-business related things that have happened recently that I won’t go into detail about (to protect both the innocent and the guilty) I’ve found myself thinking even more about what it means to treat people well, and to enjoy the benefit of having done so. Or to regret the effects of *not* having done so.

I used to think of myself as very “moral” when I was a fundy Christian. I knew right and wrong, things were black and white, etc., etc. Since the koolaide wore off, I’ve sometimes wondered how a person could have “right” or “wrong” without a spiritual framework. I’ve especially thought about this when I realize how selfish I am. (Though I think it’s a normal level and that I’m just more honest about it than some.) I’ve asked myself, “what wouldn’t I do to get something I want?” And I’m not always happy or comfortable with the answers.

One thing I firmly believe though is that it’s “right” to treat people nicely. Not because of some reward or punishment in the afterlife, but because if we were all to do it, things would just be so much better right here and right now. I’ve also noticed that when you treat others this way, you tend to get it in return, at least most of the time. Enough of the time to make it worth it anyway. I guess you could argue that’s a selfish motivation afterall, and you might be right. But I think the best of the selfish motivations are the ones that benefit someone else in the process.

I wouldn’t be who I am today without the kindness, interest and involvement of others, and I’m very grateful for it.

I hope that I can pass it on.

I’d registered this name a few years ago for a project I’ve yet to actually complete, but a valid one that has nothing to do with Verizon. I sent back a response explaining this, and how I thought there was a big difference between “super” and “superior”, and tried to explain the whole concept of what “Superior” means around here, next to Lake Superior.

It seems that I’m not the only one that Verizon has bullied, though. They’ve also tried to quash criticism.

If you’d like to see the letter that Verizon sent me, you can see the original PDF.

In my response, I stated that since I’d not had time to actually complete my project, I’d be willing to entertain an offer for compensation for the domain. Not sure if they’ll spend a ton of money trying to not give me any money. What really irks me though is that they’re going with the whole trademark violation thing which ties into the cybersquatting thing, and none of that has a damn thing to do with this domain name.

If you’ve had a similar experience, I’d like to hear about it. You can bet I’ll provide updates here if they continue to pursue things unfairly.

I was working on a web site project, creating admin pages that use PHP and MySQL (the dirty programming side of design) and listening to the Bob & Tom show. At first it was just a little twinge that made me stop and kind of look around a bit, then it sort of welled up and filled my brain for about a minute.

What would it be like if that became a constant perception? If it was some particular electrical or chemical brain state that got “stuck” in full blast?