Atheist Nomads: Episode 67

Yeah yeah yeah, busy with school, blah blah... Seriously, mid-terms have been hell. I barely passed one of them by the skin of my ass (algebra, of course) but I'm still okay. I've been a very busy lady indeed, aside from school I've been experimenting with a different kind of project, and I also had the pleasure & privilege of appearing on the Atheist Nomads Podcast: 

Here, have a listen ^_^

I've been lying low from my usual YouTube channel lately, there are only a handful of things that I've really been comfortable discussing on that channel: I've been trying to stay the fuck away from Gamer-Gate because not only do I NOT have the entire story, but I don't feel like fending off ignorant fuck-boys for the rest of the semester. I WILL formally discuss it at some point, just NOT NOW.

In the mean-time, here are links to the aforementioned "Story of Z" posts from the podcast:

1. HERE
2. HERE
3. HERE, and
4. HERE

Obligatory Atheist Q & A

We are so common on the Internet, our forums, discussion pages, and YouTube channels are seemingly everywhere. I really shouldn't have to do this, but I feel like I do. I find myself being asked some rather nonsensical questions as of late, as well as a few pretentious holier-than-thou types claiming that they know this and that about what I actually think and feel (Fun fact: THEY DON'T KNOW SHIT.) And while most of my conversations with people are actually rather pleasant, the UNpleasant ones seem to be happening somewhat more frequently since I started school. Shit happens, I guess.

So here it is, YET ANOTHER list on the Internet. 

• "Why are you atheists always so angry?" I may use a lot of colorful language in my posts, and yes I have some anger as a human being, but for the most part that doesn't have anything to do with my atheism and anti-theism. If you were trapped on the other side of the globe for a year surrounded by people who, for the most part, didn't give a flying lizard clit if you lived or died, especially when something happened that actually put your own life in danger and almost no one did anything to help, YOU'D be angry too. And while my experiences in Iraq were a big part of what brought me to shedding religious belief, I also have to give credit to Richard Dawkins and George Carlin for ultimately convincing me that it's okay to NOT have an imaginary friend.
• "Why are you so disrespectful against others' beliefs?" Ah, see, here's where people get confused about a fundemental element of life in the civilized world: People have every right to believe as they wish, so long as they aren't opressing or harming anyone else. I could give a shit less what people believe or if they believe anything at all, that doesn't absolve anyone's thoughts, beliefs and especially actions from criticism. HUMAN BEINGS (and some would argue animals as well) have rights, THEIR IDEAS do not. I am a very real flesh-and-blood person, I have rights under the laws of my country of residence and the Geneva Convention. If you punched me in the face for no good reason at all, I have every right to drag you to court and have you prosecuted over it. Let's say that I believed in a floating purple octopus that gave me friendly advice from time to time and that ONLY I can see it. If someone sent me a message on Facebook or Twitter saying that the very idea of my floating purple octopus was stupid, it might hurt my feelings but there's not a damn thing I can do about it. Why? Because criticism is not a crime, and that's what separates the developed world from countries like Saudi-Arabia, Ireland, Brazil and other countries where criticizing religious belief can land you into legal trouble.
• "People have the right to believe what they want, y' know!" That they do, just like I have every right to critique, question, or even mock the ever-living piss out of it IF I WANT TO.
• "You think you're so much better than ________...!" In the case of some recent events that I had a hand in unfolding, it shouldn't exactly be a hard pill to swallow in saying that yes, I AM A BETTER PERSON than a certain misogynistic, self-loathing, racist bigot who thinks of women as little more than breeding/pleasure automatons and openly called for the genocide of all Muslims; THEN had the audacity to not only ignore my VERY CLEAR WARNING to never contact me again (which is grounds for a stalking/harassment lawsuit, I might add...) but sent his cyber-homunculus to call ME the hateful one because I called them both out on their bigoted, self-righteous, holier-than-thou bullshit: Yes, I can honestly say that in that ONE EXTREME CASE, I am a much better person than to stoop to their level of shit-baggery. Any sane and rational person should have no difficulty whatsoever with evaluating such a situation and arriving to a similar conclusion. On the whole, though, my criticisms of religion as well as the behaviors of many religious people aren't because I want to "feel better about myself." I see a problem, I analyze it, and I call it as I see it. I also do my best to NOT resort to Ad Hominem if I can help it.
• "Debate me, EVOLUTIONIST! Or you're a coward!" Speaking of needing to feel better about one's self by way of insulting or degrading others, not every atheist out there is a scientist (even though an overwhelming majority of scientists in the United States openly admit that they don't believe in God.) It shouldn't have to TAKE a scientist to engage common fucking sense. Some people need EVERYTHING explained to them because they can't seem to figure it out on their own, and if asked an honest question I don't normally have any problem with providing an honest answer. Sometimes, that answer is going to be "I don't know." No human being on Earth knows absolutely every goddamn thing, and that's fine. If you want to debate with someone about science and evolution in particular, go find an actual scientist willing to mop the proverbial floor with your half-baked ideas. I'm just a college student.
• "You're angry at God!" No more than I am at the tooth fairy. And it's very "ungodly" to make presumptions against a person's character of whom you know nothing about, one might take such statements as an accusation without any evidence: There's no possible way that you can know what another person is thinking or feeling, so provide some evidence or just don't say dumb shit like this. That kind of behavior is called being a judgemental asshole, something that Jesus had very specific warnings about.
• "You know God exists, you just love your sin!" Again with the presumptuous accusations... Really, I think any statement such as this one isn't actually an argument at all, it's a baiting tactic designed to catch me off guard or provoke me: "I'm going to accuse you of being something you aren't, therefore God." Please, don't waste my time with this bullshit. If you have to accuse people like this to prove your sense of moral superiority, then your morals are shit.
• "You're taking the Bible/Koran/Rede/Dianetics out of context." If you want to claim that such texts are the unerring and perfect word of your chosen deity, you can't ever use this phrase in an argument: You're not going to sit there and tell me about gay sex being an abomination against God while wearing mixed-fabric clothing and stuffing your face with coconut shrimp. Even if you just like the light-hearted lovey-dovey messages of Jesus without all that icky Old Testament stuff, you can't ignore his condonement of slavery (Ephesians 6:5, 1 Timothy 6:1-2 and Luke 12:47-48.) I'm using the Bible for this example because it's the most common holy book in the United States, and as such the majority of my conversations along these lines are with American Christians. I have just as much disdain toward willfully ignorant proclamations coming out of the Koran, the Rede, the Upinishads or others as I do the Bible: Fun fact, I have read ALL of those.
• "It's ironic that atheists talk so much shit about religion when they don't believe in God..." Yes, in much the same way that doctors talk about things like cancer when they would like nothing more than to see it's eradication. Also, many atheists talk about religion in the same way that police officers talk about things like drugs, murder, y'know, crime in general... WHY? Because just like cancer and crime, religion DOES wreak it's own distinct form of havoc on civilized society, especially when it so strongly influences they way people vote and behave.
• "Stop persecuting me!" If you're an American Christian, you're an idiot for saying this. No one is breaking into your home in the middle of the night, raping your mother and sisters, murdering your entire family right in front of you, burning your house down and putting you into a camp. Y'know, like what fundamentalist Christians, Muslims, Jews, Catholics etc have been doing to eachother for centuries and even today. Saying this because you didn't get your way in an election or legal matter is just plain asinine and untrue. You have no grounds comparing a tantrum to an actual atrocity. 
• "You can't draw Mohammed! He's sacred to Muslims!" Sacred to MUSLIMS, not to ME: I am not a Muslim, ergo I am not subject to their religious rules, so... 

• "Why do you feel the need to criticize other peoples' beliefs?" Because when I get people telling me that I'm "lost," call me a "sinner," or going to an imaginary place just because I don't subscribe to their particular brand of socially constructed misery, I AM GOING to call them out on it whether or not they like the idea. How is it perfectly acceptable to threaten someone, mostly children but other adults as well, with hellfire and eternal torture unless they agree to and openly endorse a specific brand of bullshit, yet I'm somehow the asshole because I challenge their bullshit claims? 
• "Oh well THAT'S just the extremists that do that, it's not ALL _______s." There's a term called enabling: Anybody who has friends or relatives with addiction issues is probably familiar with the concept, it basically means that while you WISH someone wouldn't do a thing, when they do the thing anyway you sheild them from the consequences of their actions because you THINK you're "saving" them. Dismissing extreme behavior as irrelevant is a form of enabling and it's irresponsible as fuck. If "only a few" McDonalds employees and restaurants had been systematically abusing children for the last several decades, meanwhile McDonalds as a corporation repeatedly tried to cover it up and shame the victims instead of actually correcting the problem, Micky-D's might be out of business in a matter of months.
• "If you left the church, then you were never a TRUE Christian/Muslim/Jew/etc..." Then by your own bullshit rules, for all anyone really knows, neither are you. Furthermore, there'd be no conceivable way for you to be able to accurately tell the difference anyway, so this is ultimately a bullshit statement.
• "So-and-so who did X Y or Z horrible thing wasn't a TRUE Christian/Muslim/Jew/Hindu, etc..." I shouldn't have to explain what essentialism is OR the 'No True Scotsman' fallacy at this point. Again, you don't get to dismiss someone's actions or identity because they don't happen to coincide with what you consider to be correct behavior. 
• "So EVERYONE who believes in God is a moron according to you?" Not at all, I have many friends and relatives with whom I disagree about a great many things, to include the existence and/or relevance of God(s) or an afterlife. I rather like having friends that disagree with me on things like this, not only does it keep the conversation enjoyable and challenging, but it's kinda like a reality check for me: Every so often, I'm wrong about stuff. 
• "Hitler was an atheist!" No, actually, he really wasn't. He was a murderer and a horrible person, but most certainly not solely because of his beliefs (though, from his own words, that didn't help things.)
• "Stalin was an atheist!" And he was still a shit-head. It's not your beliefs, or in atheism's case absence thereof, that make you a good or bad person: Your ACTIONS toward others determine what kind of person you are, not your IDEAS. However, it should be noted that ideas and beliefs DO directly influence one's behavior, hence why many atheists and anti-theists have such a big beef with religion in all of it's forms. 
• "If you don't believe in God, then where does your morality come from?" It's very rare that I actually get asked this anymore, but it's worth noting because the few times I DO get this question the conversation seems to deteriorate very quickly afterward: If you need an imaginary friend to tell you that not only are rape/murder/theft WRONG, but give you half-baked reasons as to exactly WHY they are wrong, then I have to call YOUR moral reasoning into question because it demonstrates a lack of critical reasoning. If you were told by your parents growing up that it's okay to break into other people's houses, you do so, then the home-owner shoots you in the face (and MAYBE you die as a result) you were still in the wrong because your reliance on authority figures to guide your actions clearly failed: Just because someone appears to have a position of power DOESN'T mean they're right about everything. Just ask the last asshole that tried to break into my house! But to answer the initial question, mutual respect shouldn't exactly be a difficult concept to grasp. My parents brought me up never to do upon someone else what I wouldn't want done upon myself, as in "don't hit people unless they hit you first" to give an example. True, I'm not always "nice" to people 100% of the time 24/7, but that doesn't mean that I seek to actively do them harm.
• "If you don't believe in God, then what will happen to you when you die?" Cremation.
• "Aren't you scared of being sent to Hell?" Aren't YOU scared of being sent to Mordor? THAT is what you sound like when you ask that dumb shit.
• "Don't you want to go to Heaven?" Don't you want to go to Las Vegas? I can go to Las Vegas, I've been there before. Las Vegas is a real place, it's existence can be demonstrably and conclusively proven, whereas Heaven or Hell cannot.
• "But the Bible/Koran?Misc. holy text says that God(s) exist(s)!" I have in my immediate possession an autographed photo of Neil Armstrong, I had the honor & privilege of meeting the man and shaking his hand in 2010. Neil Armstrong has since passed away, the photograph coupled with his signature verify that HE, the real flesh-and-blood human being, actually existed at one point in time. This physical evidence can be examined, tested and peer-reviewed. A holy book written centuries ago, however, can no more verify the existence of the people that claimed to have written it nor confirm the existence/accuracy of it's subject matter. A holy text is no more proof of the existence of a deity or afterlife than a Batman comic would be proof that Batman/Bruce Wayne is a real flesh-and-blood human being like Neil Armstrong was.
• "But people still get good morals out of religion." Even IF that were true (see my previous explanation about where moral reasoning really comes from and why appeals to authority are bullshit) that doesn't necessarily mean that those "morals" are actually any good or have practical, real-word application in the long term. Not gambling because it's a waste of time and money isn't necessarily the same as not gambling because your imaginary friend doesn't like it: One reason is practical and sensible, the other doesn't make any sense.
• "Why can't you just believe in SOMETHING?" I can no more force myself to ignore my critical reasoning process than I can force my taste-buds NOT to recoil at the smell and taste of onions. In the end, I can only ever be myself. 
• "Deep down, you really believe in God." Why? Because YOU want me to? That's rather arrogant, don't you think? Again, that's an empty assertion and a false accusation: There's no way that you can say anything like that with any measure of certainty, so don't fucking say it.
• "You worship the Devil!" I'd gladly worship Tom Hiddleston's throbbing cock, with my eager mouth, if I ever got the chance (as well as his informed consent.) Because unlike the very real Tom Hiddleston, the Devil is just as imaginary as your so-called God. When you really think about it, if either of THOSE TWO did exist, the Devil can't really do a damn thing without God's foreknowledge and consent: Which means that the so-called supreme embodiment of everything evil and sinful exists because God purposely allows it to, and not only that, knowingly gives him the go-ahead to do horrible things. Kinda says something about what kind of a passive-aggressive cunt God is, doesn't it? 
• "I know you're just begging to be 'SAVED!'" That'd be about as true as saying deep down, you'd love a giant rubber cock in your ass. Maybe you do, maybe you don't: Unless you give me explicit and clear informed consent for me to go ahead and whip out that ol' strap-on, I HAVE NO WAY OF KNOWING WHAT ANOTHER PERSON TRULY WANTS OR THINKS, because NEITHER DO YOU! Fucking Christ on crystal meth, I hate accusatory assertions! 
• "But I'm not a bad person for believing in God..." As previously mentioned, what you believe in of itself doesn't determine this. It's how you behave toward others that makes you a good or bad person. And using religious belief as an excuse to behave in a way MOST people consider wrong or illegal, doesn't de-facto make your action GOOD: It just makes you a weak-minded twat.
• "But... but... JESUS/MOHAMMED/L. RON HUBBARD!!!" Um... Cthulu, Zalgo, Slenderman, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, blah blah fucking blah. Excitedly proclaiming the name of your chosen holy figure to reaffirm your stance really doesn't mean anything at all, it just makes you look like an ignorant asshole.
• "You atheists are all just condescending know-it-alls!" Some of us certainly are, most of us don't try to deny or dismiss a couple of fucking losers that bear the banner of atheism out in the open for their own means and ends. For another example of atheists being jerks, go onto Tumblr and look up what an M.R.A is. The difference is that for the most part, I don't think anyone is trying to brush them aside with the ages-old excuse "Oh well they're not a TRUE atheist" in quite the same way that religious people do for those of their respective faith who misbehave. 

There will probably be more at some point in the future, no guarantees at this point as I have been VERY BUSY with school (and my so-far straight-A record can attest to this.)

Essentially, no idea or belief is above criticism or reproach, especially when said ideas and beliefs are used as an excuse to justify acting like a total ass. Eventually, I think religious belief will become so wishy-washy and watered down, or so extreme and disgusting, that most reasonable minded people will disregard it entirely and just live their fucking lives. 

The eventual iradication of religious influence might not necessarily solve all of the world's problems, but it'd probably knock a decently sized chunk out.

Text-Book Definition of Awkward...

Sometime last year, I wrote a 4-part series of stories about a sketchy "Spiritual Leader" who was operating in Portland Maine in the early 2000's. Well, here's what's up: I have a Final due tomorrow, so I've been working myself to exhaustion trying to get that one last essay finished before class and I decided to take a wee YouTube break to entertain myself. While I'm thoroughly enjoying the fruits of my recent discoveries in the creepy-pasta short-horror genre, it's getting dark outside and I sought out something a bit more light-hearted in nature for this evening's delights. I found myself looking up YouTube videos of parrots behaving oddly. Macaws, cockatoos, amazons, you name it. 

I used to have a pet cockatiel way back in the day, her name was J.J. She was the sweetest little thing with wings, I sure do miss her. 

So here's me, killing some otherwise useful cramming-time looking up video clips of these adorable birds, when I happened to click on ONE of a Hyacinth Macaw sitting with it's owner out on a porch. I realized too late that I didn't quite read the owner's name clearly before I had actually clicked the link, but by then it was far too late and the video began to load anyway. I KNEW the name looked familiar, followed by the Z. initial after it. Then when the video itself actually began to play, I took a good long look but I barely recognized his face. He no longer resembles the Z. that I once followed, it was his voice (and the name & user-icon of his YouTube channel) that gave it away.

Do you have any idea what a weird feeling it is to see the face & hear the voice of someone you've grown to despise over the years, mostly because you discovered far too late that that person wasn't who or what they said they were, then to accidentally stumble across their social media posts out of the blue about a decade later WITHOUT EVEN ACTIVELY SEEKING IT OUT TO BEGIN WITH?!?!? I'm not going to link his content directly from my blog because I don't want him or his followers contacting me, not now and not ever. If you're REALLY that curious though, and I personally recommend that you NOT do this, the Hyacinth Macaw's name is apparently "Scooby" and there are several videos on his YouTube page featuring this particular bird. 

I already have enough skeletons in my closet to raise an army of the undead and lay seige to the realm of the living, I really didn't want nor do I need this. 

And yes, I'm making a bitchy blog-post about it because seeing his aged face and hearing his voice has dragged up a whole mess of shit from my past that has taken THE LAST 10+ YEARS OF MY LIFE to de-program and work through. There are New-Age circles, there are Wiccan covens, and then there are people like Z. that passive-aggressively demand your utmost devotion and obedience, along with regular "donations" that you'll never find out what they're actually being used for. 

Seriously, I could have happily lived out the rest of my life without ever having experienced this: The second-hand knowledge that someone who hijacked my at-the-time vulnerable brain for several years is apparently still up to his usual Chopra-esque shit-baggery. For real, aside from his physical appearance, according to his profile it looks like NOTHING AT ALL HAS CHANGED over the 10+ years since the last time we spoke. He's still selling his obscure brand of New-Age BS, just slapped a slightly different brand-name onto it. If there ever existed a male version of Sylvia Browne, it'd be THIS GUY!

Angry? You bet your ass I'm angry, and I'm consciously trying very hard NOT to be. Anger is a very natural human emotion that should never be ignored, and I have every right to be pissed at Z. for all the poison he pumped into my brain over the years AND had the gall to charge me money for it. I recognise that many people might find my anger a bit intense, and that's completely fine. Anyone who knows me at all KNOWS that I find ways to put my anger to constructive use whenever I can, and I'm actually not angry because I WANT to be, beacuse I really and truly DON'T. I would love to be able to forgive people who've actively done me harm and wash my hands of things, this would be a wonderful thing to be able to accomplish and probably better my emotional health as well as my own person growth as a human being.

But I can't. Try as I may, I just fucking CAN'T. 

Forgiving someone like Z., who clearly isn't sorry for lying through his teeth to people for money, would be counter-productive because he is still actively causing harm to the people that pay him for his bullshit pseudo-spiritual conspiracy theories (wether he realizes this or not is irrelevant, it doesn't change the fact that NOTHING HE SAYS can be substantially proven.) I can count on just one hand how many people have actually apologized to my face for the bad things that they've done to me, and I won't even have to use every finger on that very hand. It's pathetic, people these days seem to have NO CONCEPT of accountability for the consequences of their bad behavior. Shit, I'm a straight-up asshole to people but even I KNOW when I've gone too far! 

Now I have this essay for my English Final, plus three separate assignments within the same class, all due TOMORROW. 

I can't work like this, so I'm going to play some MINECRAFT and forget life on Earth for a while. 

Great, and now Hyacinth Macaws are ruined for me, also.

RANT: Failure

When I was a teenager I wanted to be a stand-up comic, the sudden (and traumatic) realization that "stage-fright" is in fact a very real phenomenon killed that pretty quickly. At my mother's insistence, after High School I went to Maine College of Art instead of to a REAL college or university. It's a mistake I've been paying for for over a decade, soon to be remedied with my recent admission to the University of Arkansas. Art school was a fucking joke, nothing quite like paying tens of thousands of dollars a year for information that not only wouldn't help me land any stable work, but that I mostly already knew. I quit after a year, and while I certainly don't regret walking out on M.E.C.A. while waving the one-fingered-goodbye, I admit my reasoning at the time for doing so was greatly flawed. I spent the next 7+ years of my life scrubbing hotel toilets after obnoxious tourists because I took a family member's insane advice & didn't have the lady-balls to stand up for myself, because I was afraid. 

In 2009, having had enough of living at the mercies of tale-twisting hotel guests & shady-as-shit management, I enlisted in the United States Army: I needed a do-over, some serious changes in my life and it looked like a great way to make that happen. It turned out to be both a blessing AND a curse, I've made some amazing friends as well as some truly frightening enemies, I got to see a part of the world both oddly enchanting and downright horrifying to any civilized mind, and also I had the pleasure & privilege of falling madly in love with someone genuinely beautiful and unique, only to eventually lose him to my worst of weaknesses, fear. 

The last I had heard from him, he was hospitalized some time last year. I still don't know what for or how serious the circumstances, I haven't heard a peep since December & it scares me to think of what might have happened to him (I try not to.) 

By some definitions, I was a shitty Soldier to begin with: I was always lousy at PT even when I DID give it my all, and contrary to anything my former "leadership" might tell you, giving it my all was what actually injured my spine in such a way it made regular PT impossible for the rest of my career (I have X-Rays & MRI scans to prove it.) Though I was only ever ONCE late for a formation, I only ever bothered to show up so that I wouldn't be listed A.W.O.L. and then promptly tried to make myself scarce, after Iraq I grew to hate my squad-mates, my Company and even my entire Unit. My departure was just as memorable as my career, I left the Army in much the same way that I had served while in it: Just like in Iraq, with my pants down out of sheer defiance and savoring every second of it. 

Behold, my last day on Fort Huachuca (and in the Army.) 

Over the course of my 32 years of life on Earth, I have fucked up A LOT. 

I just recently enrolled in college for the first time in over 10 years, it's at a legitimate educational institution this time and I am TERRIFIED that I'm not going to make it. For starters, their student networking system is a logistical nightmare: I was probably the LEAST competent Signal Soldier in the entire history of the United States Army, and I could probably set up a more reliable/less complicated system than this. Next, my math scores are atrocious. I hate going out to eat because calculating a decent tip is a chore for me, I still do my best. College, ACTUAL college, is going to be painful and embarrassing as all fuck. Looking back, I don't know why I didn't outright refuse my Mother's "advice" & just go anywhere BUT art school. 

There is one thing that scares me more than anything in Iraq ever did, and my life was legitimately in very real danger on more than one occasion (but THIS ONE especially so!) More than public speaking, more than mortars & rockets, more than heart-break or legitimately evil people posing as friends, there is only one thing in this existence that wills top me dead in my tracks almost every single time... 

I am terrified of failure, sometimes even to the point of not trying at all. 

The first (and only) time I failed a Record APFT, I had a panic attack. My first (and only) Article 15, I tried to kill myself & then tried like Hell to hide it: Soldiers & Veterans reading this, go ahead & scoff at me if you must. Statistically speaking, it could just as easily have been YOU trying to swallow an entire bottle of stolen pain-killers. The first (and only) audition I ever went to for a part in a local production, the laughed me right out of the building. For years no art gallery in all of Maine would showcase any of my work, even my own home town which only had ONE GALLERY IN IT at the time! By every common definition of the word, I fail at life.

So why do I keep trying? I'm also stubborn as all fuck and I don't particularly care about what others think of me, for the most part. Despite my crippling fear of not making it in the world, I feel bad if I don't do anything at all. Embarrassing as it is to admit, there are times I don't even try, I'm working on that. I hate it, but I'm doing what I can with what I have. 

I'm not dead, I'm not crazy (well, THAT's debatable. I'm "functional" I guess...) I can still walk on both legs, paint & write with my hands, speak & curse with my own foul fucking mouth and a whole range of other things that others who've been the same places I have can no longer do. Maybe instead of moping around about everything I've lost, I should be grateful for what I haven't. 

You can spare me the god-talk, your imaginary friend has nothing of real value or consequence to offer. 

I will keep trying to make my plans work out & come out ahead, because it's not only all that I can do, but at this point I no longer have a choice. 

Sink or swim.

OW! My Aura!

I'm coming to the end of an almost 2 month long "Vacation" in my great home State of Maine, Now that I'm out of the military I can finally be my bad self. No more looming paranoia about Duty-Roster Call-Ins at 0400, no more standing at Parade-Rest for shit-heads who otherwise aren't fit to shovel shit from one pile into another, I'm completely free to enjoy my life for it's good times and challenges now. I've been staying with family here in Raymond for the majority of the time I've been in Maine, but earlier this week I had a chance to hang out with the only friend I have left from my days at Maine College of Art. Her name is Rosie and she's an entire package of fire-crackers tossed into a can of gasoline, she's the kind of person who'll tell you what she's thinking regardless of whether or not you want to hear it.

Fun Fact: Medicinal Marijuana is legal in Maine, just, eh... puttin' that out there for you *cough*

So, just like the good-ol-days, we spent a day chillaxing in Freeport (yes, home of the L.L. Bean Store, the second most visited tourist attraction in the State) walking up and down the streets just talking shit about yuppies and wandering into random shops looking for interesting items. Should you ever find yourself in Freeport, I highly recommend the British Imports shop right across the road from L.L. Bean but I should warn you that for some fucked up reason they don't have any FLAKE Bars (Really, WTF guys?)

However, just like the good-ol-days, Rosie wanted to pop into her all-time-favorite shop for a minute. Telling her I didn't believe in faeries anymore wasn't hard, most Wiccans don't get upset with Atheists over that stuff because they know what it's like to have some shit slung in their direction: I just kept it simple, that after everything that went down in Iraq I am DONE with religion. Period.

Anyway, back to my friend's favorite shop... 

With the exception of some of my previous experiences, if you've seen ONE New-Age boutique you've pretty much seen them all: Ironically overpriced Buddha statues, nag champa incense (which I rather like, actually) a glass case full of various polished stones and unusual jewelry, maybe some of those Tibetan Prayer Flags that people out here seem to like so much, just a compendium of items that anyone with any loosely formed idea of meditation or auras might find "Ooh! Shiny!"

Back in the day I could have easily destroyed half a paycheck in a place like this, so much temptation! Rosie is still an avid Wiccan, she was actually one of the first people to introduce me to the idea over 11 years ago before "Z" hijacked my spiritual practices. I didn't see the harm, really, I just fell out of it after that long because after surviving a War Zone it seemed stupid to keep living a lie. I don't get terribly many chances to hang out with Rosie, I figured why not? Now I can look at things like this objectively and it's not like I'm not allowed inside the shop itself.

New-Agers LOVE Angels! And who could blame then? Stories of Angelic figures predate Christianity by thousands of years, and who wouldn't want an invisible super-being protecting them from harm 24/7 that they can talk to and interact with?

There's an entire corner of this place with piles upon piles of anything Angelic on every shelf, and they all look fucking identical: White robed with shiny wings, and almost all of them have blonde hair. If Angels DO exist, I wonder what they think of things like War? THAT is humanity at it's absolute worst and it's not even anything new, we've been looking for ways to kill each-other En Masse since the dawn of time and all the while they've supposedly been watching us go at it. I don't know about you, but the thought of it actually creeps me out a little. I was brought up as a child to believe in my Guardian Angel, that everybody on Earth had one that protected them wherever they went: I guess my Angel either didn't like me all that much after a while, or there's no such thing as Angels.

Which brings me to another item regarding prevalent (though not necessarily uniform) New-Age belief: Spirit guides. Animal totems, Ancestor worship, dead relatives telling you what to do, etc... Really? First of all, even if the dead COULD speak to the living I'm not too keen on the idea of taking advice from deceased family members, mostly because in the case of some of MY family many of them are dead due to NOT heeding the advice of the living (mainly by doctors, but hey...) Invisible animals aren't anything new, either: I suppose that anyone who's an animal lover wouldn't mind having a few spiritual friends that take on the guises of their favorite animals: Wolves, deer, cats, eagles, even rabbits and mice.

When was the last time you talked to anyone who bragged about having a Velociraptor as a Spirit Guide? Or a Trilobite, or an Archaeopteryx, or a Woolly Mammoth? They WERE real animals that are now VERY DEAD, why don't they get to have a say in our lives just the same?

I have a favorite animal: The Octopus. Those things are not only wicked cool animals, they're extremely intelligent and DEADLY AS FUCK! If I were to pick ONE ANIMAL that I'd live to have follow me goddamn everywhere, it'd be a Giant Pacific Octopus (and yes, they have been known to survive on land for several hours) but just because I really REALLY want one, that I'm capable of imagining one at my side offering me practical financial advice, doesn't mean it's real. And for the record, I'm not AT ALL into tentacle porn, Cephalopods in general really are just awesome creatures that deserve our appreciation and respect.

I've lost interest in the figurines and statues in this place, I move on the the part of the shop where the books are because that's where Rosie is. I consider myself an avid reader, although I don't really get to sit down and read as often as I would really like to, but I gander at the shelves and notice that nearly all of "the Classics" are here: Scott Cunningham, Silver RavenWolf (Yes, that's her name, but she seems happy with it) Doreen Valiente, among a few other popular Pagan authors as well. No matter what your beliefs, many people who write books like these will pretty much tell you do "do what feels right to you, even if it's not by the book."

If THAT'S the case, what's the real problem with people like Aleister Crowley and Anton LaVey? Their own practices surely "felt right" to THEM, even if some of them confused and down-right creeped-out the rest of us, by THAT reasoning who are we to say they were wrong?

I happen across one book with a pink cover, the title alluded to practices for recovering from a bad break-up. Rosie and I both smirk at this thing and set it back down on the shelf: Though far more expensive than this little book, a bottle of Tequila and a good hard cry with a horny stranger will accomplish the same thing. On the shelf immediately next to this are rows of pristine journals that look hand-made: I used to collect these things like Pokemon and fill them with "Spells" that I'd either copied from other books or made-up on my own.

Wicca really is the epitome of making it up as you go along, but to a point they're at least willing to admit this: The general idea is that as long as you're not actively seeking to harm anyone, do whatever floats your boat. It's very rare that you HEAR ABOUT Wiccans and Pagans actively discriminating against the LGBT crowd (although rare, I promise you it DOES HAPPEN) and I think this is the reason why they tend to get along with most Atheists so well. Most Wiccans aren't proselytizers and the very nature of that faith doesn't mesh well with the idea of "winning converts" at all. If a friend decided to take up Wicca, most Wiccans would offer advice from time to time but that's about it. 

Despite my internalized ramblings and criticism, even a few memory-replays while in the shop, I DID buy myself something: An $11 pair of earrings made out of recycled plywood, I'm not joking.

What can I say, I saw them and knew deep down that I really wanted them (must have been A Sign, LOL!) and they were made locally, or so the card said.

I took them to the counter and I paid cash, the clerk looked like Penn Jillette with braided pigtails but was otherwise very friendly and courteous to me. It's not like I put my bright red "SNARKY & BITTER ATHEIST" hat on before going inside, and I doubt these are the kinds of people that really care what I think but genuinely appreciate their customers. And why wouldn't they? I doubt they think they're selling people snake-oil, many of them honestly believe it themselves and I'm fine with that: They have every right to believe whatever they like.

Just as I have every right to reflect on my experiences and criticize their beliefs to no end.

Rosy and I concluded our visit and went out for coffee, I put my recycled plywood earrings on as soon as I walked out of the store.

It was a good day indeed ^_^

The Story of Z (The End)

Maybe it's just me, but when someone tells me they're going to do something then it's perfectly reasonable of me to expect them to do it. I had a decent job that I really enjoyed, occasionally I could find some male company for a night or more (keeping it, however...) and I had every reason to enjoy my frequent visits to Z's shop on Congress Street. Even despite not getting back one dime for all of the books or the gas-money, even despite snap-back answers to seemingly innocuous questions during classes and Circle meetings, through all of the doubt and skepticism tightening inside my brain like vines, I still attended regular rituals and meetings like clockwork. With increasing tension between myself and family at home I began looking for a serious way out, a few of Z's students had managed to find a place between the three of them very recently so I figured that finding a place should be easy if I had a potential roommate.

Z didn't seem all that enthused at first, I think he may have been growing suspicious of me having doubts at this point. This frightened me, toward the end of my time among those people I felt like I was walking across a very thin wire: The wrong answer, the wrong question, hanging out with or talking to the wrong person (including a long-time friend that, despite not abusing substances or owing any serious debts, was somehow a poisonous influence and "draining my energy like a leech" please...) was all it would have taken for that wire to snap right out from under me, but that I needed to continue to function within the Circle's expectations in order to have a meaningful life.

The really great thing about working at a book-store with such a sweet employee discount: Access to a wealth of information about the very cause I thought I had pledged my life to.

Sure, Z sold books at his shop too but getting new ones took him fucking forever: He told me once that he had the same distributors that Borders used, considering how frequently Borders had new products that needed shelving, yet again I became doubtful. If the sources were truly the same, why were Z's access to those resources always so limited? 

Eventually it dawned on me that not only was something not quite right about how Z ran his Circle and dictated instruction to the other students, but the super-exclusive nature of the entire shop itself: Crafted items that no other Circle/Coven had known of or what to do with, extremely specific products (oils, incenses and other things pre-made within such parameters that were unique to the Circle's own rituals, other things I'd never seen or read of other Covens adopting into regular practice...) The fact that the items for sale in the shop only had known use for members of the Circle, occasionally people would wander inside and pick up a few things because they were curious about them but beyond that WE were almost always the only people buying anything, THAT should have been a huge indicator that maybe the direction these people were headed wasn't somewhere I wanted to be.

Not only had Z been laying a very rigid frame-work of how he thought we should practice our rituals and spells, but he made damn sure that HE was the only resource for "real magick" that we could utilize.

"Everyone else is doing it wrong, if you want to do it right you do it through me" to paraphrase the later lessons that I can recall. Between September of 2001 to Spring of 2003 the Circle had expanded from about 5 or 6 of us to a pretty steady 10, sometimes more. Sometimes we'd see new students, they didn't usually last very long and when they left we'd never see them again: Z's explanation was usually that some people can't handle this kind of thing, and for people who are new to Wicca or anything New Age this might have been true. However I still can't figure out why an "experienced Witch" in her late 30s who'd been doing this almost all of her adult life would only stick around for maybe two meetings and then run away like her ass was on fire.

Our social circles were eventually limited to only each-other, if I managed to meet a guy I usually felt guilty about having contact with someone outside the Circle and eventually I was encouraged (by Z himself, often during member meetings) to end whatever was going on. 

Z ordered me to break all ties with my own best friend because he was gay: Hanging out with gay men was a sure-fire way to drain my "Magickal Energy" dry. Oh, cruel irony...

Not the money, not the books, not the belittling in front of other members or my suspicions about where Z wanted to take us as a group, he managed to serve up my own pain against me: Singling people out because of who they love, choice or not, was the very reason I ditched Christianity for whatever he was selling to me and my wounded mind. I am NOT going to play this game again, I am not a bigot and I will not associate with them if I can help it. Damn near every book I had read up until that point said absolutely nothing about Wiccan ideals (or even the Rede itself) conflicting with adult consensual sex WHATSOEVER, so either some of Z's own prejudices were managing to slip through into his teachings or he was fighting some kind of insecurity that he didn't want to face.

I met a new boyfriend (who turned out to be a psychopath, but THAT's another blog series) left the group for good and never looked back.

For years I continued with rituals and spells on my own terms, but I never really trusted ANY spiritual guide all that much after having run with Z's Circle for so long and seen such blind obedience. I guess I wanted so badly to believe in such things that I almost sacrificed my sense of self just to be a part of it. Kool-Aid is Kool-Aid no matter what flavor on the package: You can either pour out the cup or taste the hint of almonds far too late.

I flipped ALL RELIGION the Bird while deployed to Iraq, I've seen quite enough of what horrors vindicated people are capable of committing. 

Z's operation might still be in business SOMEWHERE in Southern Maine, it looks like his last location in Westbrook didn't pan out: I drove past the old building last week, it's empty and looking for someone to lease it out. I have no idea what he's doing now and I don't want to talk to him, but our very last conversation was a very angry exchange via MySpace (long before that site went full-retard.)

Not long before moving out of Maine, I put together a small bag of all the stuff he ever gave me. Oils, potions, "Holy Water" and a little white rock that was supposed to protect me from evil. I left everything on the lawn and walked away: I was simply returning defective merchandise.

Fuck right off, dude.

The Story of Z (Part 3)

Atheists often use a term called "Cognitive Dissonance" to describe a specific concept: Essentially, it's an accurate description of KNOWING that something is, or has a distinct and clear possibility of being, complete and total bullshit but going along with it anyway for whatever reason the believer sees fit. This is often applied to lay-believers who "have to believe in SOMETHING" but may be wrestling with some doubt in the back of their minds, sometimes feelings of cognitive dissonance can escalate into full-blown emotional turmoil: This is especially true for people coming from more "devout" situations, countries and families because they may honestly believe that having a shred of doubt at all will damn them forever or even get them killed. 

Cognitive Dissonance is also the title of a frikkin' sweet podcast: Glory Hole!

About a year into joining Z's Circle and trying to find my place in the Universe (as well as with the others in the Circle, who never seemed all that talkative) It was easy to develop an obsession with all aspects of the Occult, and working at a bookstore full time it was even easier yet to accumulate a massive collection of books on the subject and build my own library. Z had his own curriculum that he taught from, there were two books in particular that he insisted were the absolute best way to do magick by: "Earth Power" by Scott Cunningham and "Psychic Self Defense" by Dion Fortune, and you'll notice many modern occultists and neo-pagans insist on adding the letter K to the word "magic" because they want to distinguish their rituals from slight-of-hand and stage tricks. 

I was convinced, by an incident I couldn't explain (at the time) in the old Holbrook Dormitory, that I was constantly surrounded by malevolent spirits and ghosts: Although I should point out that long after I had quit M.E.C.A. and returned home to Raymond, I found legit historical records (via the Maine Historical Society's archive building on Congress Street) strongly suggesting that a settlement of the Abenaki Tribe was violently wiped out not far from where I currently live over 200 years ago. Some people still believe in ghosts, especially in the New England area, and if they WERE REAL I can't imagine any lot of un-rested souls with any better reason to hang around and show the living how pissed off they are than murdered Native Americans.  

I am no longer among those people, but at the time this was all the convincing Z and I needed: I'd be pissed if this were MY ancestral home that white people were building a Banana Republic on, therefore ghosts exist.

He trained a small group of us, three including myself, how to investigate and vanquish spiritual "baddies" who were bothering humans: I began to doubt the legitimacy of Exorcism as a concept pretty early on, but I guess I justified it in my mind because I not only thought this shit was REAL but that it was possible for ghosts and entities to actually hurt people (and not just in the commonly said "feeding on your aura/energy stuff" that many New-Agers often discuss) Let's say for a moment that ghosts WERE real, that the dead could actually communicate with the living and could play charades with human beings, what if one ghost had a legitimate concern or urgent issue that they needed resolved? Like if that dead person was a murder victim and wanted their killer found, but started pestering the current occupants of their house for help because, well, a murderer could still be at large! Lighting up a big bowl of Myrrh in every room of the house and telling them to Go Fuck Yourself hardly seems helpful or beneficial to ANYONE, not the spirit in need nor the current home-owner.

After a trip to some middle-aged lady's house between the three of us, doing pretty much what I loosely described above, that was when some cosmic shit started to hit a really big fan that so happened to be pointed directly at me: Some weeks later we found out this lady had been to SEVERAL "Psychics" in the area requesting the exact same services, we got the impression that she just wanted to be told what she wanted to hear about some incurable problem and that some cosmic force had it out for her and no one could help, boo-hoo. Maybe if you'd vacuum your floor every so often, lady, and clean all those boxes of worthless shit out of your house you'd probably feel a little better about yourself and your life might come together.

This was going down in very early 2003, the drive to and from this woman's house was icy and dangerous: At one point on I-95 my entire wind-shield iced up and I had to pull over to scrape that shit off just so I could see the road. The other two in my crew took that as a sign from the spirit world that they were trying to stop us from doing this, I figured that this was a NORMAL FEBRUARY NIGHT IN MAINE! Z gave me $5 for gas, I don't think the other two offered me one red cent. Thanks, assholes. I think it was at THAT MOMENT that I began to quietly acknowledge that maybe I was wasting my time and resources with these people. I had already ordered several "reimbursable" books that I never got a dime for, now this. 

It's quite one thing to believe in invisible forces and that you can interact with them, not only that but that if you're a member of a spiritual community that actively wants to do this then that you should form some kind of agreement with each-other about about inter-member conduct: That night I honestly felt like I was just being used.

And it STILL wasn't enough for me to leave! I just couldn't accept that a Circle that I had devoted time and resources to would only see me as a means to an end, even almost ten years later this is difficult, at times even painful for me, to wrap my head around: Okay, fuck it, these people really pissed me off! But maybe I was just having a bad night, or maybe malevolent spirits were dicking around with my mind as revenge for the "eviction notice" I participated in serving upon them, or any other excuse I could imagine to explain away my doubts.

I simply COULD NOT BELIEVE, and that's honestly the most accurate term I can think to to express the sentiment, that some weird stranger playing a flute on 9-11 in the middle of downtown Portland Maine, the very same dude that I had managed to befriend and even offered me shelter from the proverbial shit storm that my hipster-classmates sent my way, only thought of me as little more than a resource for the security of his operations. Why the fuck would someone do something like that? Why would a friendship fostered over for over two years be a sham?

Or maybe I'm just taking a small slight (and approximately $1000 worth of donations and books) a little too personally...

Part 4 will be the final installation of this tale.

The Story of Z (Part 2)

I only lasted one school year at Maine College or Art, one wouldn't think of a yuppie art school as a haven for bullies but THAT was ultimately what drove me away. And with a little convincing from my new friends, like Z, committing academic suicide and ultimately leaving the school for good wasn't hard at all. After everything I'd been subjected to and not even getting decent grades out of it, arriving at the eventual conclusion "Maybe this just isn't for me after-all" seemed the only logical end to the madness. 

If I'm really going to quit M.E.C.A. and turn over a new leaf, may as well start right now: I was borderline bankrupting myself over mostly useless knowledge that would never land me a real job at the current rate things were going. Sure you could teach people the right way to stretch a canvas so that it won't break apart, how to make sure the canvas is primed properly so that the enzymes in the paint won't eat a hole in it after 50 years, but how the fuck is there a right or wrong way to express ideas and/or feelings onto said canvas? That's just nonsense, but I was spending hard-earned Student Loan money on it just the same.

It saddens me that art is no longer about talent these days, it's about projecting the ideas of a Status-Quo from one direction or another.

There was a fundamental difference in Z's temperament between his different classes that he offered, even when just talking to daytime customers in his shop. He sold dried herbs and some oils, mostly trinkets and services though. Compared to other New Age shops most people have probably been to throughout the United States (or the UK, the two countries where Wicca is most widely practiced) Z's shop had a pretty sparse but very specialized selection of spiritually oriented goods. At the time you could go anywhere in Portland and go look for witchy-stuff, there were two other stores operating at that time with much more selection, neither of which Z had anything particularly remarkable to say about.

He had several repeat customers, mostly fellow students of his from his classes. There were one or two that even worked for him during daytime hours; One was a daughter of his from a previous marriage, the other was a tall girl with rather plain features. He said he had two wives, something which struck me as extremely out of place at the time, but since neither of them seemed at odds with each other I guess I didn't see any harm being done there. To most people this might have sent up a few red flags, but then again I am NOT most people and I didn't feel I had any reason to object or question this.

A recent bout of questioning MY OWN sexuality, to include orientation, made me feel like I wasn't in a position to criticize other adults who didn't seem (at the time) to be harming anyone.

I wasn't sure I was a lesbian, I do enjoy sex with men but with women as well. At that point in time I didn't have terribly many opportunities to experiment, what with having very few to almost no prospects for relationships due to my classmates acting like cunts. Z made it abundantly clear right off the bat what HIS position was regarding LGBT issues: Only straight people could perform rites and rituals effectively, this was due to gay sex (between males or females) negating the natural course of energy and something about the parasitic nature of gay relationships.

Don't get pissed off YET, I'm not finished.

He said that since gays and lesbians can't procreate naturally, one partner tends to feed off the others' energies and that's why we would see one as the "Butch" and the other as the "Bitch." This didn't make a lick of sense to me at the time, rather than try to publicly discuss this with him (which was rarely met well, he could be quite persuasive of his opinions. After'all, we were just students seeking out a self-described Master) I was brand-spanking new to Wicca at that point, I honestly thought that this was how a Coven was supposed to work.

Finding work after M.E.C.A. was a pain in the proverbial dick, I burned every black candle I could get my hands on trying to chase away any bad juju that may have been trying to keep me from finding gainful employment. After four unsuccessful interviews, I enlisted Z's help int he matter. I don't recall exactly what was done, but a few days later I stopped in to say hello and he told me I'd pretty much walk-in-and-take my next job interview with raving success: It was at a comic book shop and I actually failed the interview horribly, so no dice.

My NEXT interview after that, however, was at the Borders Bookstore in the Maine Mall complex and I got hired almost on-the-spot. Surely that's the one he was actually talking about, yes?

I loved that job, the first job I ever had that despite having to work retail I actually truly loved doing. I loved to read, and as luck would have it my supervisors put me in charge of the Spirituality and Religion section: ALL OF IT, including Christianity. Meh, a job is a job, right? Considering that this was divinely provided for me since Z must have done the right spell with the right candles and oils and such, and I was in the right mindset at the right phase of the moon... Look, you're either seething through your teeth or laughing your balls off at all of this and that's fine. I think at this point either reaction is perfectly reasonable to this wad of rubbish, but understand that I had been through the first of many difficult patches in my young-adult life and I really honestly thought that this was a good thing for me.

And sure as Climate Change fellow students would come to the store to ask me about finding books, Z would even ask me to put in an order or two for stuff he needed from time to time, which I paid for. Not to worry, though, he said he'd reimburse me every penny (and for the record no he didn't, but I wasn't going to press the matter with him because running a business in Portland was literally quite a taxing matter) 

So Z had a few opinions and practices I didn't always agree with 100%, that's the same with ANY religion though, right? 

Part 3, coming soon.

The Story of Z (Part 1)

Welcome to late-summer of 2001, Portland Maine. This is my first week of college at Maine College of Art, my first time living out of my parents' shadows and I'm completely alone out here. I'm one of only a few native Mainers in the Freshman Class, almost everyone in here is from a different State or another country. 3D Design class just started about 15 minutes ago, then some stoner-chick runs into the room yelling about New York City being on fire: We laugh, at first. She grabs three people to come with her to the Mr Bagel across the road from the Porteous Building, and there it is on the TV, BOTH of the World Trade Center towers are burning.

THAT was such a serious "Oh-Shit" moment, I didn't think it was real. It had to be either a sick joke or a mistake, I ran back into the Porteous Building, grabbed my stuff from the classroom and stormed out: At least half of my family, including my Father, are from New York City and the surrounding areas (Brooklyn, Manhattan, etc...) 

I'm walking quickly back to the Holbrook Dormitory, I walk right past some dude I've never seen before: He's just standing there playing a long bamboo flute.

I get it, people are panicking left and right, I pass two other students who are in tears: Maybe someone was just trying to do something to distract people from the violence on TV, or maybe this was just something this guy did for fun from time to time: Just stand outside and play his flute, side-walk musicians are nothing new in Portland (although these days they are entirely too rare.) 

I don't think there were any classes the following day, the Dean decided to hold a student forum to talk about what just happened to the world, The morning of September 12th amounted to little more than a bunch of hipsters arguing with each-other. There was talk of war, activism, charities and disaster relief. One or two students who came here from New York had tried to get home to their families, I was still waiting to hear back about two of my cousins (I found out later that day they were in Brooklyn and they were unharmed.) 

I walked out halfway through the ordeal: From where I was sitting, this "Student Forum" was quickly becoming an Ad-Hominem driven farce and I wanted no part of it.

I just wanted to quietly kill some time alone, so I wandered from shop to shop on Congress Street just looking at stuff. One shop was selling the kind of hats worn by little old ladies, another only sold varying types of Irish imported goods. I came across the same strange dude standing in the same strange spot only this time it looked like he was talking to two women standing on either side of him, he made eye contact with me and I gave a friendly nod: I don't know this guy, but I see no reason to be impolite.

This continued for weeks, once regular class schedules resumed: I'd walk past his little shop and say hi, most of the time he'd say hi back to me. As time passed, it became ever clearer to me that my leather-clad metal head self was not welcome among certain circles (the vegan-nazi hipster types that M.E.C.A. is still known for catering to.) At least three or four times a week I'd come back to my dorm-room to find PeTA pamphlets, and on some occasions flyers, jammed under my door. At least EVERY night of the week, my spoiled cunt of a roommate would bring groups of her party-buddies over late at night while I was busy either trying to study or just trying to sleep: Despite the fact that our first day of Freshman Orientation we both signed a mutual roommate agreement indicating we'd each give the other a "courtesy notice" of 24 hours before having company over.  

This is the very same chick that accused me of stealing and using HER kitchen-wares without any evidence to back it up, despite the fact that I had just purchased brand new ones for myself the week prior AND kept the recepit: LOL!

Some manner of non-academic escape was, as with anyone in similar circumstances I suppose, absolutely inevitable. All my class-mates ever seemed to want to do was either go drink or go off to concerts of bands I'd never heard of before: I guess obnoxious hipsters were being obnoxious hipsters long before obnoxious hipster memes on the internet made the world known regarding obnoxious hipsters. This strange dude on Congress Street, who had a name but called himself "Z" for short, offered a pay-by-donation Tae-Bo style workout class after class hours: Perfect! I show up twice a week and pay whatever I can afford to, sans OBNOXIOUS FUCKING HIPSTERS!

Things worked out great for about a month and a half of this, eventually I was coming back to my room to find more and more of my stuff occasionally being vandalized. At first I didn't say anything to the M.E.C.A. staff because I didn't think they would help me: Then one fine evening it literally took a screaming fit before people finally got the message that I was getting sick of this, a BRAND NEW message-board that I put on my door was been completely filled to capacity with not-so-clever dick-drawings ALL OVER AND THROUGH IT.

Meanwhile nobody in the dorm says or does anything to the chick who flips out on drugs, breaks into peoples' rooms and destroys THEIR property (and for some really weird reason mine was the only room NOT broken into.) so I guess that made it okay in their eyes.

I wanted to quit and go home, but something was compelling me to stay. I was worn down to the point that I could barely keep awake during class, I avoided damn near everyone until it was time for my OTHER classes, but even then my participation was just-for-show. After enough harassment from my dorm-mates, I just had almost no energy left and I think Z noticed.

He told me that with some new ideas and a change in attitude I could realize my full potential, whatever that meant. Around this time I had struggled enough with Christianity to give it the boot all together and pick up something else, it just seemed obvious to me at the time.

After all, Z not only led the workout class but also a small Wiccan Circle.

All this simply could NOT have been a coincidence, could it?

Stay tuned for the next installment of the series...