Most people seem surprised when I tell them I became an atheist as early as 13. I’m more surprised that anyone could continue to believe into that stuff well after the age where they start thinking for themselves, but I’m an arrogant prick, so whatever.
The truth is I always kinda knew I was an atheist. All my time in Catholic school I went along with it because adults told me it was true, and you go to school to learn things, right?
Man, what a joke that makes religion class.
Ever since I was a kid I had an aversion to killing bugs. I remember instances in middle school where I fought off kids trying to squish cockroaches. Mind you these roaches were not even indoors, they were minding their own business outside. Occasionally a teacher would pass by and see my trying to protect the bug and snicker.
Lovely attitude from Catholic school mentors, though they oft proved they had little value for animal life.
Still, I was not completely innocent. I squashed my share of mosquitos and spiders, stepped in ant hills. I never felt good about it, but I never thought of it as “killing.” I was just fighting off a nuisance.
I, and many atheists, have often been accused of being pessimistic. Not a very scalding denunciation, but I take issue with it in that I have never once been labeled a pessimist in a situation where I was actually being pessimistic. In fact, some of the claims have been downright confusing. Here are a few things I’ve said that have been met with that response:
Sleep and I have never been on very good terms. Sleep never wants to hang out with me, sometimes I ask him to, sometimes I just sit around waiting for him, but he blows me off a lot. I think he doesn’t care much for Thinking, because I’m usually chilling out with Thinking while waiting for Sleep to come.
There was a kid in our class who wore an ankle bracelet to school. I don’t mean some douchey piece of jewelry, I mean a court ordered hunk of plastic that he treated like a douchey piece of jewelry. It was put on him after he broke into some kid’s house and just milled around there for a while. Whenever I think back on it I wonder if it was even real. I mean I saw the ankle bracelet, I knew full well he couldn’t get that thing off and saw the red light blinking, but… what the hell was he doing in our class? I mean this was a private school, why wasn’t he expelled after he got arrested? It’s just kind of surreal that he was never kicked out. He openly admitted to teachers that he smoked pot and constantly made jokes in class about Jesus smoking pot. Keep in mind that this was middle school. For our level these seemed like insanely crazy crimes that would ruin your future. Maybe the staff just never took him seriously.
For this story I’ll just refer to him as “the convict,” because when I used to tell this story to people I thought it made it sound cooler. Continue reading
I’ve been called one thing in several different ways: cynical, jaded, skeptical, pessimistic, gloomy, disparaging; always some variation. I wouldn’t dare deny it, though I prefer the term “realistic,” and I certainly don’t find it a bad thing. I wear it with pride. I prefer to view things carefully before jumping on the bandwagon. Some people wonder what made me that way. Well that’s an easy one: nine years of Catholic School. Continue reading