unfriendlyatheist:

serialmatrix:

If you don’t know, Jessica Ahlquist is a 16 year old girl who wanted a school prayer mural removed as it was unconstitutional. A judge ruled in her favour. You should see the disgusting abuse she’s getting. From every angle; Twitter, Facebook, comments…

Does this need a caption? It’s pretty self-explanatory to me! 

According to Moulin Rouge, the four virtues Bohemia aspire to are “Freedom, Beauty, Truth, and Love.” To all my artistic friends, how would you prioritize these virtues in your own artistic sense? For me, it would be:

4. Beauty - The world can sometimes be harsh and ugly, this must be embraced if Beauty is to be truly appreciated; unfortunately, it is subjective and therefore a personal standard to be sought out on one’s own, rather than something to be aspired to as a collective.

3. Love - In terms of romance, I don’t care about love, it makes things complicated and difficult; but a fraternal love for all mankind is what I strive for: that everyone recognizes everyone else’s right to be who they are, and to make sure that above all else, we cause no harm to one another.

2. Freedom - The truest artistic freedom would be to harshly satirize someone in the audience and have them laugh along with the rest. To have people realize that in order for art to live, it must be free to breathe, speak, and send its message to the audiences, with the only restrictions being imposed by the artists themselves.

1. Truth - Art is a reflection of the world as perceived by the artist. If an artist does not create what they believe to be the truth, then the product is a shell; a piece with no life within it. That’s why above all else, we must have our art be as honest as it can be. If it’s ugly, let it be ugly. If it’s offensive, let those who hate it be offended… as long as the art reflects truth, then it is to be respected as such.

For those of you who have known me a while, I’m sure you’ve been expecting this. I’m sick, therefore, I think, and because I think, I must write. I have a very stream-of-consciousness style to my “illness writings” as I call them. In fact, I’m typing with my eyes closed in a completely darkened room because the light from the computer screen makes my head throb.

This sickness was contracted in the workplace. It’s a bug that’s been going around for a few weeks now, and it’s finally gotten to me in spite of all the health precautions I’ve taken to avoid it. One question that was raised in the dressing room was “What is it that makes these 20-something young men come in to work, deathly ill, and think it’s okay?” That’s a fair question, and one I’ve been thinking on for a while now. The short answer, as far as I can give, is that it’s a generational thing.

Young men in my demographic, 18-28, have grown up in varied and uncertain times. We’re old enough to remember a more carefree time in the U.S., in the economic boom of the ‘90’s, and yet we’re young enough to have been harshly shaped by the world-changing events that occurred in our developmental years, thus planting the seeds of fear and mistrust in our young, developing minds. Then, when we finally finish our education and attempt to enter the workforce, we find ourselves trying to gain an economic foothold in a world where there are five job-hunters for every position available, and a Bachelor’s degree is equivalent to what a high-school diploma was ten years ago. If/when we find employment, we try to hold onto it by any means possible, because employers recognize that we can be discarded like so many paper cups, and easily replaced by the job-hungry masses clawing at our cubicle walls.

We have no job security, we have no room for error, we know we are looked down upon, and worst of all, we look down upon ourselves. We know that as little as 20 years ago, the job market was much different; a positive referral was a brilliant thing, background/credit rating checks were almost unheard of, and someone could walk into an office with a resume and a copy of their diploma and walk out with a job after only a half-dozen tries. Now, we’re forced to fight each other for the scraps that our employers are willing to part with… little hope to stay employed… much less hope to be promoted.

Christopher Hitchens is dead. I learned that fact 24 hours ago, and it’s really yet to settle in. When I was in my “spirituality-limbo,” his book “God is NOT Great,” helped me realize that NOT having a religious ideology was, in fact, an option, and (along with several other books by other authors) got me started down my road to my current freedom from religion. I don’t know what I can say that can fully encapsulate how much I simultaneously loathed and respected this man. He was adamantly and steadfastly always pushing people to find out what the truth was, and to fight for it, but he did it in the coarsest, most emotionally grating way possible, which (while effective) makes me wonder how much I’d be willing to emotionally challenge someone in order to help them break free from a lie they’ve grown up with.

As always, I’m personally looking for the truth. Unfortunately, I’m human, and am subject to the all-too-human weakness of subjectivity. I think a wonderful part of the human experience is to find out what the nature of reality is, outside of how we perceive and interpret it with our limited sensory systems. What is there in the universe to see outside of what our optical cells interpret from incoming photons? What celestial music can be heard in the vibrations of electromagnetic waves that need no medium to travel through? What do other worlds’ atmosphere’s smell of?

101.1 degree fever.

The Circumstance: A day off from work

Normal Reaction: Relax, spend some time at home, maybe go out with friends later.

My Reaction: Sit at home wondering what the hell normal people do on their days off, go online to research what they do, scoff at the mundane nature of what they do, and wind up watching seven hours of Science Documentaries on Netflix.

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The Circumstance: The Superbowl

Normal Reaction: Go to a friend’s house, bringing chips and beer so you can cheer yourself hoarse rooting for your favorite team.

My Reaction: Go to a friend’s house, bring chips and beer so I can puzzle over how no one else sees that two dozen men in tight pants tackling each other trying to grab a ball is quite possibly the gayest thing our culture has ever produced.

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The Circumstance: New Year’s Eve

Normal Reaction: Go take your New Year’s date to see dinner and a show. Count down the last ten seconds to the New Year, and drink some complimentary champagne.

My Reaction: Go to work, serve people dinner, perform in a show, stay after until they count down to the New Year, then serve complimentary champagne.

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The Circumstance: First good snow of Winter

Normal Reaction: Take the day off to throw snowballs, ride sleds, and have some good old-fashioned fun.

My Reaction: Euphorically throw myself in a face-first belly-flop into the largest patch of untouched snow I can find and lay there for as long as I can. (I call it “snow-diving!”)

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The Circumstance: Cat rubs against your leg and purrs contentedly

Normal Reaction: Pet the cat, scratch behind its ears, and send it on its way.

My Reaction: Demand to know what the cat REALLY wants, pick it up, and toss it onto the nearest couch in a flurry of fur, claws, and fangs.

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The Circumstance: Receive the compliment “You look good/smell good/shaved nicely today”

Normal Reaction: Smile and say “Thanks for noticing!” then carry on with a spring in your step.

My Reaction: Smile and say “Thanks for noticing!” then worry that I don’t usually look good/smell good/shave nicely… otherwise, why would they take the time to comment on it? Is it a subtle hint that I should bathe more, take better care of myself or invest in new razors? Is everyone whispering behind my back about these things but are too worried about hurting my feelings to tell me straight out??? OH GOD I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!!! Then throw myself out of the nearest open window.

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The Circumstance: Driving to work

Normal Reaction: Watching cars going the opposite way whiz by as you’re caught in the morning/afternoon rush hour.

My Reaction: Laugh maniacally as I speed down the road opposite to the poor 9-to-5’ers who are caught in the morning/afternoon rush hour.

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The Circumstance: Going to the supermarket

Normal Reaction: Stop by after work, pick up milk, eggs, and bread.

My Reaction: Stop by after work, realize that the supermarket closes at 11:00 PM, go home, sleep for six hours, wake up early (around 10:00AM,) go to supermarket in pajama pants whilst still half-asleep, pick up coffee creamer, cadbury eggs, and (for some reason) one of those gigantic crossword puzzle books in which I’ll do five puzzles, get stuck on the sixth, and throw out the whole thing.

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The Circumstance: Roommates go on vacation

Normal Reaction: Enjoy having the house to yourself, maybe have a small get-together of friends to keep you company.

My Reaction: Panic. As my roommates are my only continuous source of human contact, and now their house, our house, is totally under my supervision. Should there be a fire, an earthquake, or a UFO crash that damages the house, it is completely my fault. (Don’t give me that look, it IS my fault if any of those things happen.) I don’t allow anyone over lest something break that I have to garnish my wages for the rest of my life to repay to my former friends who kicked me out of the house for allowing everything to go to hell while they were away.

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The Circumstance: Doctor asks “Describe the pain on a scale of 1-10, with ten being the worst pain possible”

Normal Reaction: Describe your sore throat at about a four; inconvenient, but not debilitating.

My Reaction: Contemplate on what the “worst pain possible” could be. Have visions on terrible tortures from the Spanish Inquisition mixed with the Saw movies, only with everything covered with fire, and everyone barefoot on a floor covered with sharp Lego pieces. Curl up into a fetal position on the examining room floor and describe the same sore throat as a “0.01”