The Signal

Why I'm an atheist

Sat, 19 May 2012 12:56:29 -0700

This post from Free Thought Blogs is so on the money about why I am an atheist. Some may have wondered, why I have become so much more outspoken about my atheism recently. It is because I recently started caring about politics and holy rusted metal Batman! the political bull that gets carried out in the name of righteousness. It seems to me that freedom of religion in this country no longer means, “let me worship the god/s of my choosing”, but rather freedom to discriminate, freedom to act on hate and the freedom to control the rights of others.

I am not ok with employers denying medical coverage for birth control to employees if it is mandated for all other employers. I am not ok with a tax exempt status for organizations that are not obligated to the same anti-discrimination laws as every other organization. I’m not ok with church run schools forfeiting state championships because a girl is playing on the other team. I’m not ok with denying the right to marry the person of your choosing to any human being. I’m not ok with a single person who holds their relationship with an invisible god above any real tangible relationship with a human being who needs and loves. I’m not ok with the degradation of women. I’m not ok with any person controlling the state of my uterus except me. I’m not ok with any war carried out against an “evil”.

That’s what’s up.

Horchata, by Vampire Weekend: Lyrics to Poem

Wed, 02 May 2012 01:21:25 -0700

Krissy’s are here! http://krissyranae.com/2012/05/01/another-one-pulled-from-a-song/

boots and fists to pound on the pavement

the streets, they rumble

as pedestrians pass.

they walk, strut, jog

their way into homogeneity

uninterrupted

pavement pulsing,

the life, the blood

the heartbeat

no one step has any influence

there is no individual

but the city

she is each. and all.

years go by and hearts start to harden

once pliant

almost even meek

with a heart that bounces

she was eager tot please

eventually, disappointed

a single cell in her heart

crystallized

a protection for the future.

with a whince she skipped on

again a let down

bigger than the last

two cells then

boys came and went

and left their marks as well

the years passed

and the scars piled u

now a solid mass

and the shell

built to keep a heart safe

is in danger of shattering.

Welcome to the internet, Today's real life.

Sun, 29 Apr 2012 01:11:22 -0700

This is a little journal entry I made on OKCupid.

Sometimes I get a little frustrated with OKC chat. I had it off for years (yeah, no comments on the years part mkay?). I feel like it is almost impossible to get to know someone in a text message, or a chat window. Not impossible. It’s just chat. And ‘chat’ as a word does not bring to mind life altering ideas and conversation. It brings to mind awkward conversations in the smoking area or standing in the frozen food section with melting ice cream.

I spend my life away from home and I know meaningful internet communication is possible. Maybe I’m stuck in the past. Five years ago when texting cost people money. But if you want to get to know me. Write me. Write me about your day. Write me about why you decided to write me. Write me about picking a goddamned wall color.

I have heard many times and you have read in many profiles (statistically, you probably even write in your own) that you hate writing about yourself. I mean, so do I. But it is a necessary evil. And does writing to all of us that you don’t like it make you sound like someone we want to talk to? But you gotta. We are right now trying to stand out as not just strangers on the internet, but interesting people that are worthy of real, live, make-me-a-part-of-your-life attention.

A lot is lost in text and even more in a chat window. I won’t take it to texting until I’m sold you are someone I want to know. After you’ve maintained my attention with letters on OKC, then maybe you’ll get my actual email address. Some success there will probably find us meeting in person. Then comes the number. The number is a hard fought reward. The number signifies, you might need to get a hold of me quickly because our plans have changed and even more importantly, we made plans. It isn’t, a means to get to know me.

Remember by Harry Nilsson - Lyrics to Poems

Fri, 20 Apr 2012 01:03:00 -0700

Remember life is just a memory - And this is what I remember.

Underneath the hawthorn tree,

blossoms overhead,

and a hand lingered on a branch, too shy.

With unknown meaning I asked you

to be my boyfriend.

Underneath the hawthorn tree,

I wish you were now

standing again with me.

Sun soaked skin

our hair was long

my shorts were cutoff

and yours, they sagged.

Granite beaches, grass and pine.

Summers were long and

stars, they shined.

together we walked

the gravelly road.

And in your jacket, I slept.

The sweet smell of hay,

you probably hate, spending

all morning in the stalls.

You rushed to shower it off,

but for a moment

when you dashed by

I filled my lungs

and smiled.

Fudge-sicles and crossword puzzles.

In the afternoon, after school.

To laugh with you now in the grass.

I treated you horribly.

I was dumb,

and we were young.

and now it’s all past.

Please check out Krissy’s too!

Everlong - Foo Fighters, Lyrics to Poem

Fri, 06 Apr 2012 00:35:00 -0700

Krissy’s poems can be found here!

I was short on time and inspiration this week. Even though I picked the song, I found that every time I tried to think about it I just ended up singing Everlong. Maybe some songs are so right, they are perfect as they are.

Breathe out

so I can breathe you in

A divining rod, thirsty and dry, I’m pulled

to you. A gravity so subtle, I couldn’t know to fight.

Escaping from your parting lips, a sigh, soft and light

and greedily I drink. A draught so sweet,

pulled deep into my core. And I am

quenched.

When I sing along with you

A ringing disharmony

words we barely kknow, but it

doesn’t matter.

Hips swing and sway, the notes can barely escape

for smiles spreading across our face.

And the joy of being alive

knocks out a beat in my frame.

Dead leaves and the Dirty Ground by The White Stripes - Lyrics to Poem

Thu, 29 Mar 2012 21:46:00 -0700

The below sounds sad. But don’t worry, I’m not sad. Not now. I spent a long, long time in that depressed place only a loved one can send you, but now that I’ve come out the other side, I’m a ridiculous, optimistic fool. However, what can you do with a break up song? I think I finish on a high note.

Here are Krissy’s!

When I know you’re not around

I pick my nose. It’s true.

But that doesn’t surprise you.

When the sweats come on and the hair goes down,

when you are gone.

My web searches get unsavory

and only Google knows me now.

The recycling piles up and the bottles are noisy,

and only the trash man knows me now.

Before you return I shower. Long and hot.

Scrub my dirty off. Paint my fresh face back on.

Smile.

No one knows me now.

Thirty notes in the mailbox

will tell you when I’m coming home.

I’ve been gone 60 days

and thought of nothing but you.

Messages every day.

How many ways can I say I miss you.

But you stopped responding.

You found a way to fill the empty time without me.

Thirty messages in your inbox remain unchecked.

and I come home alone.

I didn’t feel so bad ‘til the sun went down.

Ghost and goblins jump at me.

Shadows in the corners and monsters under the bed.

When the chills start, I can’t get it out of my head.

I’m cold and alone.

But it’s me. I’m the boogieman.

I have nothing to fear, but the only thing I can’t flee.

No one to lie and protect me, I must be my own hero.

With armor of reeds and an arrowless bow

she succombs. So quickly. So easy.

When I look to the mirror now I see her and me.

Together.

When the sun goes down, I don’t feel bad.

Not anymore.

Rainbow Connection - Lyric to Poem

Thu, 22 Mar 2012 23:53:57 -0700

Is this the sweet voice that calls the young sailors?

the crash and the call of the sea

it sings to us sweetly

promise of adventure

of trials and treasure

concealed by the waves

where sky meets the earth’s end

the horizon is where it begins

What’s so amazing that keeps us stargazing?

unknown and hidden

locked in shadow

sheltered from our piercing gaze

one at a time the colors are freed

a vision each alone

one more beside it

incredible depth is revealed

side by side even brighter

infinitely more than the sum

Rainbows are visions but only illusions

fleeting it passes

the moment it ends

no scar left behind.

why do we bother

to flash our colors

a sight that cannot last?

the joy of an instant

single beat of a heart

is reason alone to live

Linky to Krissy’s!

Lyrics to Poems

Sat, 17 Mar 2012 00:07:09 -0700

I’m going to try this thing with my Semi-Crazy Blonde Girl.

She recently wrote up some poems that were inspired by lyrics to a song. This should be a fantastic exercise for me and having a friend to keep me motivated is exactly what I need.

I’m responsible for our first song choice so I’m going through the songs on my laptop while I really should be sleeping. So far I have discovered that I cannot use any Decemberists songs. Colin Meloy has already made poems out of them. So maybe something more superficial?

I have an idea, but I’m still browsing…

I am an Atheist

Fri, 11 Nov 2011 17:55:51 -0800

I’m scared to say those words out loud. Not because I am ashamed, on the contrary I am proud to be who I am and believe what I believe. I’m scared because there are usually very strong reactions to this statement. There are the responses of the faithful, who try to scare me into belief or lure me with false statements of understanding. But really, I’m more afraid of other Atheists. Often, this statement will segue into a tirade on the faithful. They are referred to as hypocrits, ignorant and all other manner of things often associated with the faithful by atheists.

However, I believe none of these things. Individuals are individuals. I can understand and sympathize with many. Most of the people I love are among the faithful and I love them. I believe that atheist and believer alike can be friends and live in harmony and I strive to live that example.

I felt I needed the above preface to follow up with what I really wanted to talk about, death, grief and consolation.

Usually at the time of death, friends and family try to console one another with musings of “a better place”, a plan, or a future reunion in a heavenly setting. But for those of us who do not have any faith or belief in “a better place”, an Architect or a life after death, these consolations have the opposite effect. They anger and infuriate. They remind us that you really don’t understand how we are feeling right now and we feel even more alone than we did before you brought a god into it. We cannot take solace in the idea that we will see our loved ones again, we are instead coping with the fact that we will never see them again, that they no longer exist outside of our own memories and the memories of our loved ones. This is the place we are in emotionally and mentally. We are trying to accept this when everyone around us is insisting that we don’t have to and it is impeding our progress and recovery.

I am saying this not to sway anyone to my side of the line, but rather to remind us all to be considerate of the state of our friends and loved ones in their times of mourning. It is not the time to proselytize, for either an atheist, or a believer. Nothing makes you feel less valued as a person than to hear your loved ones use your grief as an opportunity to bring their own beliefs to the spotlight.

I followed a rabbit hole of links today my believing friend Krissy started me on and I ended up at True Love Studios, thoughtful and considerate consolations regarding loss that leave out beliefs in an Almighty. It made me feel so good to be understood when it comes to my own (past) grief. I’ll leave you with a little list of things that help console atheists in times of grief.

1 - Reflecting on the life we shared with our loved ones.

2 - The knowledge that suffering, has come to an end.

3 - Lost loved ones will always be in our hearts and our memories.

4 - Live our life to the fullest and waste not a second, because it is all we have.

5 - Reminding and appreciating the loved ones we have with us right now.

6 - Our loved ones are here for us and are hurting with us.

Remember to love each other.

Stage - Brandi M A coach? A phase? A performance? This...

Mon, 03 Oct 2011 07:06:47 -0700

Stage - Brandi M

A coach?

A phase?

A performance?

This journey.

This life.

This place.

The end

will find you.

I struggled with this hard. I have absolutely no inspiration from this prompt. I look forward to reading the others and seeing what actual writers could do with this. Really all you get from me are notes, that I pretend make a poem.

Image from DeviantArt BeanHugger

rantings of a semi-crazy blonde girl: nightmare fuel, day 3...

Mon, 03 Oct 2011 00:23:57 -0700

rantings of a semi-crazy blonde girl: nightmare fuel, day 3...:

Semi-crazyblondegirl is doing Nightmare Fuel too!

semi-crazyblondegirl:

I’m participating in a writing project on Google+ over the month of October. The project is called nightmare fuel, and thus, the stories coming out of it may be a bit dark for some. I’ve decided to post what I write to tumblr because, well, because I don’t want to accidentally scare anyone away…

Love - Brandi M Nobody loves children like she does. The boys,...

Sun, 02 Oct 2011 10:15:00 -0700

Love - Brandi M

Nobody loves children like she does. The boys, the girls, the bullies, the shy ones, the fat ones, the skinny ones, she loved them all. It was unfair really, to love anything that much. And yet she couldn’t help herself.

And they needed her. Their tears made it so clear to her that she was the only one who understood them. Oh she knew their parents and family tried. But they could never really understand. Not like her. But who was the priority here? The children. Obviously. And so she watched out for them.

Nobody minded the old woman on the park bench with her knitting. A lonely woman enjoying the life of the children in the park. She was harmless and put everyone at ease. She would bring brownies and give them to the children, asking for the parent’s permission of course. She had to win them over as well, otherwise she was a creepy old lady in the park.

Eventually the children would come to her on their own. Tearfully. With reports of how unfair their parents were. How mean the other kids were. This was the time. This was when they were ready. She could make it all go away. The tears, the struggles. She could preserve their innocence. She would soothe their souls. She would calm their fears.

She put her hand on their heads and they would look up at her, with grateful smiles for the cookie. And that is the last time they would be seen. It happens so quickly, it doesn’t even frighten them. In a moment they are frozen in that time, in that place. They would never have to cry again.

Thank you to David Swan for the photo and Bliss Morgan for the project.

The Night Watchman - Brandi M The night watchman picked up his...

Sat, 01 Oct 2011 10:12:00 -0700

The Night Watchman - Brandi M

The night watchman picked up his flashlight and took off on his rounds. He had taken a job at the aquarium to pay off his student loans.

As soon as he had been left alone at the aquarium, he lit one up. This was the greatest job ever. Sleep all day, get high, watch fish. He should have dropped out of college years ago.

Night time at the aquarium is always the most interesting. It’s a shame the public doesn’t get to see it. When the overhead lightening is dimmed and the tank lights are off the animals get adventurous. Crabs and fish come out from behind their rocks and explore their tank looking for love. Looking for a late night snack.

The watchman’s favorite was always the octopus, but he wasn’t alone. The aquarium hosted the only successful breeding program for the Giant Pacific Octopus and supplied aquariums across the United States.

As night came on they would begin to slowly extend their many arms from the corner or rock they had been hiding in. Unfurling like a flag flapping in a slow motion breeze, they would stretch across the glass of the tank. The mantle would follow and eventually the large beak would be exposed. Clear, steely eyes watched him. It gave him the shivers, those arms, that beak, the brilliant mind watching his every move. He had chuckled to others he wouldn’t want to meet these guys in a dark alley.

His rounds took him to the “hospital”. A catwalk stretched across the room looking down into six or seven, several thousand gallon tanks. Some were used for breeding. Others, nurseries and a couple served as quarantine tanks for new arrivals or death beds for the dying mothers. Their bodies limp from weeks of starvation and the constant maintenance of their thankless brood.

He sat on the catwalk, took off his heavy boots and dangling his legs over the side. It was clear of hand rails. The aquarists needed free range of movement to attend to the tanks. He pointed his flashlight into the water. The tanks were dark save for the beam from his MagLite piercing the water like a saber. He liked to swirl it around a nursery tank and watch the juveniles dash out of the way. Momentarily blinded by the beam they would bump into one another and the walls. He could sit there all night playing tag with them in this manner, but rounds had to be completed.

Tonight he felt adventurous. He lit up another joint. He laid back on the catwalk and watched the reflections off the tanks ripple across the ceiling.

He checked his watch and discovered it was much later than he thought. He had lain there for an hour. He stumbled up. Probably too quickly.

He found himself underwater with a gauging pain in his right calf. He reached down to swat it away and he felt another on his arm. And then, his neck. He flailed his arms up his legs, across his body around his head, but it was no use, the juveniles were coming too quickly.

He kicked once desparately, but the coral at the bottom of the tank was sharp and sliced his bare foot and he hadn’t the momentum to reach the surface.

He opened his mouth to scream, but only bubbles came out and cold water rushed in. Freezing and painful, his lungs ached as they filled with water. His skin was being ripped from his body. It was excruciating. Until, it wasn’t. The tank started clouding with blood.

In the morning, his chewed and bloated body would be found floating on the surface of the tank.

Special thanks to Bliss Morgan and Danielle Tunstall for her photo contribution to Nightmare Fuel

Nightmare Fuel

Sat, 01 Oct 2011 10:05:00 -0700

Every day of October Bliss Morgan is providing a photo as a writing prompt in a project called Nightmare Fuel on G+.

I don’t usually participate in writing exercises. I’m not usually a writer. But this just spoke to me.