This morning I had two weird dreams:
In the first, I was somewhere in New Jersey visiting Brittany's family. I was walking down a quiet street when I saw a tall Nordic-looking blond woman. I got incredibly scared and started running. I ran down an alley and kept on running, past houses, past pools. I stopped to catch my breath, looked down the alley and saw another blonde. Shit, I thought. Then I saw another one. I ran a bit more and ran into a bakery. I locked the door and told everyone the news: we were being invaded by aliens. At that point, four Asian teenagers knocked on the door. They were the Asian mafia and they came to collect... but for some reason they tried to force us to give them money by brandishing q-tips at us.
In the second dream, somebody came up with the great idea of sending several adults undercover to eight grade classrooms at my middle school. I was one of those adults and was really looking forward to this opportunity. I couldn't find my locker and I had no idea who my teacher would be. I walked into a random classroom and saw a bunch of kids switching classrooms.
I have no idea how I would ever even pass for an eight grader nor why I the aliens were tall blondes, but they were fun dreams.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Tuesday, January 25, 2011
On a Mysterious Friend
I was talking to my friend Marisa the other day about our now-gone friend Shea. One of the topics of our discussion was how mysterious his life was. We had only really heard of his grandparents, not his parents, and knew very little else about his life growing up. An idea occurred to me that this would be a great research topic. I could collect fragments of information and present it as a final ouvre. It actually reminds me a lot of history seminar assignments. Perhaps this is my yet-to-be-published book.
On Helping an Injured Pigeon
Last Thursday night, I was walking home from the subway. As I was passing Gristedes, I saw a pigeon standing motionless, huddling in a corner. I stopped and searched for some veterinarian offices and animal hospitals in the area. I must have spent about thirty minutes standing outside calling different places. I figures that I could find a place that would accept pigeons and I could take it straight away before going home.
I called about ten places and none of them were willing to take the pigeon. One place was willing to take the pigeon and euthanize it. I figured I could take it there, have them look at it, and see whether it would be worth saving the pigeon. I went in search of a small box to transport the bird. I found one in a Duane Reade across the street.
I grabbed the pigeon and took him home since by then, that one hospital was closed. At home, I searched for a while to see where I could take it. I found the Wild Bird Fund, operating out of Animal General on 87th and Columbus. The next morning, I still called a handful of other places since I didn't want to have to go all the way to the UWS.
No luck, but I was able to get an appointment for Saturday afternoon. At the hospital, we were told that the pigeon was in bad shape. Part of its tail was gone and it was also very skinny. They said it was likely sick and so was too weak to escape the human/dog/car/injuring object. They also said that he was very cold and that sick birds do not keep their body temperature up. They took him in and were going to put him in an incubator to warm him up, give him some fluids to get him going, and feed him. If he was able to get better, they were going to see what the underlying problem is.
I haven't gotten any updates, but I will contact them soon to see how he fared.
I'm glad I found the Wild Bird Fund so that I know where to take an injured bird.
I'm planning on making a donation soon... it will count as part of my New Year's resolutions!
Here is the little dinosaur.
I called about ten places and none of them were willing to take the pigeon. One place was willing to take the pigeon and euthanize it. I figured I could take it there, have them look at it, and see whether it would be worth saving the pigeon. I went in search of a small box to transport the bird. I found one in a Duane Reade across the street.
I grabbed the pigeon and took him home since by then, that one hospital was closed. At home, I searched for a while to see where I could take it. I found the Wild Bird Fund, operating out of Animal General on 87th and Columbus. The next morning, I still called a handful of other places since I didn't want to have to go all the way to the UWS.
No luck, but I was able to get an appointment for Saturday afternoon. At the hospital, we were told that the pigeon was in bad shape. Part of its tail was gone and it was also very skinny. They said it was likely sick and so was too weak to escape the human/dog/car/injuring object. They also said that he was very cold and that sick birds do not keep their body temperature up. They took him in and were going to put him in an incubator to warm him up, give him some fluids to get him going, and feed him. If he was able to get better, they were going to see what the underlying problem is.
I haven't gotten any updates, but I will contact them soon to see how he fared.
I'm glad I found the Wild Bird Fund so that I know where to take an injured bird.
I'm planning on making a donation soon... it will count as part of my New Year's resolutions!
Here is the little dinosaur.
Sunday, January 9, 2011
On Finding a Missing Friend
I have a good friend from college who dropped off the face of the earth after graduation. For five years, we knew nothing about what he had been doing. To our group of friends, this was nothing uncommon. We were used to him coming to a party and leaving without saying goodbye. We knew him to go out and wander the streets of Cambridge and Boston by himself, and junior year, he went off to China on an exchange program and sometimes we would hear stories of his exploits there. He was very animated and everything came back to the great evil that was China - the soon to be sole world power. Since we had not received any type of communication from him, we assumed that he was somewhere in China fighting to bring the nation down or rotting away in a prison for trying to do so.
A handful of months ago, I was able to work my Googling/stalking magic and found an address in Spokane, WA that seemed like a plausible contact. I sent a Christmas card and asked him to call or e-mail me. A couple of weeks later, on January 2, I missed a call and received an e-mail from his mother in which she told me that he had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
The next evening, I spoke to his mom. It is a very sad story, unfortunately. They arrived in Washington after our graduation on a Wednesday. He was very happy and excited to soon be starting a job at the Berlitz language school in Tokyo. His brother and couple of other friends wanted to take him camping before he left. So that Friday they went camping. He was waiting for the two friends to pick him up. Something happened that the car with his two friends fell off a 900 foot cliff and died. He didn't even know that this happened because he called his mom wondering where his friends were, thinking that they were playing some prank on him. His mom told me that the parents of his friends that died even went to their house, blamed him for the death of their children and said they wished it had been him instead of their children.
He became depressed but still went away to Japan. She got that call from his building owner in Japan asking her to get him. She said that when she found him and it seemed like a scene out of Howard Hughes' life and he had even dunked his computer and phone in water because he was afraid he was being tracked. She was able to bring him back but refused help.
At some point, she found out that there was some history of mental illness on his father's side. Because of the current laws, he could not be helped against his will. He left one day while she was at work and received a call from him 15 months later. He had been found in a park after having tried to overdose. He has been in and out of hospitals, but unfortunately because of the laws, he'll only be required to be on his medications for 90 days at a time and then he'll stop taking them once no longer required to.
He does not really know that something is wrong with him. He doesn't know he is ill, so knowing that he has some level of happiness is what helps her keep it together. She said that when he first started living in the assisted living homes, she was visiting him twice a week, plus Friday to pick him up for the weekend and Sunday to take him back. She still takes him home every weekend. Unfortunately, any communication from us is not welcomed. She mentioned to him that he got a Christmas card from me and greetings from friends, and he said something to the effect of 'I knew it, I knew they were tracking me and now they found me.' Even another card saying 'have a merry and jolly time' sparked a paranoid episode. She says that he is often in his own world and thinks that everything is signaling him and that the FBI, CIA, and what have you are tracking him. She said that they even took him to a local FBI office to show him that he was not in their computer system. After they left, he said that the reason he was not in the system is because it was a secret investigation. She says that Shea is in danger since he'll often walk into the street without being aware of what he is doing.
Our friend is now destined to a life of assisted living homes, mental hospitals, drug cocktails, random paranoia, and he will not get better.
I was really affected by the news. It was so sad to hear that our friend has essentially disappeared and has become a person ruled by the plots conceived by his malfunctioning brain. Nevertheless, he will always be one of our good friends.
A handful of months ago, I was able to work my Googling/stalking magic and found an address in Spokane, WA that seemed like a plausible contact. I sent a Christmas card and asked him to call or e-mail me. A couple of weeks later, on January 2, I missed a call and received an e-mail from his mother in which she told me that he had been diagnosed with paranoid schizophrenia.
The next evening, I spoke to his mom. It is a very sad story, unfortunately. They arrived in Washington after our graduation on a Wednesday. He was very happy and excited to soon be starting a job at the Berlitz language school in Tokyo. His brother and couple of other friends wanted to take him camping before he left. So that Friday they went camping. He was waiting for the two friends to pick him up. Something happened that the car with his two friends fell off a 900 foot cliff and died. He didn't even know that this happened because he called his mom wondering where his friends were, thinking that they were playing some prank on him. His mom told me that the parents of his friends that died even went to their house, blamed him for the death of their children and said they wished it had been him instead of their children.
He became depressed but still went away to Japan. She got that call from his building owner in Japan asking her to get him. She said that when she found him and it seemed like a scene out of Howard Hughes' life and he had even dunked his computer and phone in water because he was afraid he was being tracked. She was able to bring him back but refused help.
At some point, she found out that there was some history of mental illness on his father's side. Because of the current laws, he could not be helped against his will. He left one day while she was at work and received a call from him 15 months later. He had been found in a park after having tried to overdose. He has been in and out of hospitals, but unfortunately because of the laws, he'll only be required to be on his medications for 90 days at a time and then he'll stop taking them once no longer required to.
He does not really know that something is wrong with him. He doesn't know he is ill, so knowing that he has some level of happiness is what helps her keep it together. She said that when he first started living in the assisted living homes, she was visiting him twice a week, plus Friday to pick him up for the weekend and Sunday to take him back. She still takes him home every weekend. Unfortunately, any communication from us is not welcomed. She mentioned to him that he got a Christmas card from me and greetings from friends, and he said something to the effect of 'I knew it, I knew they were tracking me and now they found me.' Even another card saying 'have a merry and jolly time' sparked a paranoid episode. She says that he is often in his own world and thinks that everything is signaling him and that the FBI, CIA, and what have you are tracking him. She said that they even took him to a local FBI office to show him that he was not in their computer system. After they left, he said that the reason he was not in the system is because it was a secret investigation. She says that Shea is in danger since he'll often walk into the street without being aware of what he is doing.
Our friend is now destined to a life of assisted living homes, mental hospitals, drug cocktails, random paranoia, and he will not get better.
I was really affected by the news. It was so sad to hear that our friend has essentially disappeared and has become a person ruled by the plots conceived by his malfunctioning brain. Nevertheless, he will always be one of our good friends.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Ricky Gervais - Why I'm an Atheist
Ricky Gervais recently published an opinion piece in the Wall Street Journal in which he defends atheism. Recently, my girlfriend's mom was asking me why I don't believe in god and kept on pestering me until it became annoying. I've included a link to the piece here and the text below:
Why don’t you believe in God? I get that question all the time. I always try to give a sensitive, reasoned answer. This is usually awkward, time consuming and pointless. People who believe in God don’t need proof of his existence, and they certainly don’t want evidence to the contrary. They are happy with their belief. They even say things like “it’s true to me” and “it’s faith.” I still give my logical answer because I feel that not being honest would be patronizing and impolite. It is ironic therefore that “I don’t believe in God because there is absolutely no scientific evidence for his existence and from what I’ve heard the very definition is a logical impossibility in this known universe,” comes across as both patronizing and impolite.
Arrogance is another accusation. Which seems particularly unfair. Science seeks the truth. And it does not discriminate. For better or worse it finds things out. Science is humble. It knows what it knows and it knows what it doesn’t know. It bases its conclusions and beliefs on hard evidence -- evidence that is constantly updated and upgraded. It doesn’t get offended when new facts come along. It embraces the body of knowledge. It doesn’t hold on to medieval practices because they are tradition. If it did, you wouldn’t get a shot of penicillin, you’d pop a leach down your trousers and pray. Whatever you “believe,” this is not as effective as medicine. Again you can say, “It works for me,” but so do placebos. My point being, I’m saying God doesn’t exist. I’m not saying faith doesn’t exist. I know faith exists. I see it all the time. But believing in something doesn’t make it true. Hoping that something is true doesn’t make it true. The existence of God is not subjective. He either exists or he doesn’t. It’s not a matter of opinion. You can have your own opinions. But you can’t have your own facts.
Why don’t I believe in God? No, no no, why do YOU believe in God? Surely the burden of proof is on the believer. You started all this. If I came up to you and said, “Why don’t you believe I can fly?” You’d say, “Why would I?” I’d reply, “Because it’s a matter of faith.” If I then said, “Prove I can’t fly. Prove I can’t fly see, see, you can’t prove it can you?” You’d probably either walk away, call security or throw me out of the window and shout, ‘’F—ing fly then you lunatic.”
This, is of course a spirituality issue, religion is a different matter. As an atheist, I see nothing “wrong” in believing in a god. I don’t think there is a god, but belief in him does no harm. If it helps you in any way, then that’s fine with me. It’s when belief starts infringing on other people’s rights when it worries me. I would never deny your right to believe in a god. I would just rather you didn’t kill people who believe in a different god, say. Or stone someone to death because your rulebook says their sexuality is immoral. It’s strange that anyone who believes that an all-powerful all-knowing, omniscient power responsible for everything that happens, would also want to judge and punish people for what they are. From what I can gather, pretty much the worst type of person you can be is an atheist. The first four commandments hammer this point home. There is a god, I’m him, no one else is, you’re not as good and don’t forget it. (Don’t murder anyone, doesn’t get a mention till number 6.)
When confronted with anyone who holds my lack of religious faith in such contempt, I say, “It’s the way God made me.”
But what are atheists really being accused of?
The dictionary definition of God is “a supernatural creator and overseer of the universe.” Included in this definition are all deities, goddesses and supernatural beings. Since the beginning of recorded history, which is defined by the invention of writing by the Sumerians around 6,000 years ago, historians have cataloged over 3700 supernatural beings, of which 2870 can be considered deities.
So next time someone tells me they believe in God, I’ll say “Oh which one? Zeus? Hades? Jupiter? Mars? Odin? Thor? Krishna? Vishnu? Ra?…” If they say “Just God. I only believe in the one God,” I’ll point out that they are nearly as atheistic as me. I don’t believe in 2,870 gods, and they don’t believe in 2,869.
I used to believe in God. The Christian one that is.
I loved Jesus. He was my hero. More than pop stars. More than footballers. More than God. God was by definition omnipotent and perfect. Jesus was a man. He had to work at it. He had temptation but defeated sin. He had integrity and courage. But He was my hero because He was kind. And He was kind to everyone. He didn’t bow to peer pressure or tyranny or cruelty. He didn’t care who you were. He loved you. What a guy. I wanted to be just like Him.
One day when I was about 8 years old, I was drawing the crucifixion as part of my Bible studies homework. I loved art too. And nature. I loved how God made all the animals. They were also perfect. Unconditionally beautiful. It was an amazing world.
I lived in a very poor, working-class estate in an urban sprawl called Reading, about 40 miles west of London. My father was a laborer and my mother was a housewife. I was never ashamed of poverty. It was almost noble. Also, everyone I knew was in the same situation, and I had everything I needed. School was free. My clothes were cheap and always clean and ironed. And mum was always cooking. She was cooking the day I was drawing on the cross.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when my brother came home. He was 11 years older than me, so he would have been 19. He was as smart as anyone I knew, but he was too cheeky. He would answer back and get into trouble. I was a good boy. I went to church and believed in God -– what a relief for a working-class mother. You see, growing up where I did, mums didn’t hope as high as their kids growing up to be doctors; they just hoped their kids didn’t go to jail. So bring them up believing in God and they’ll be good and law abiding. It’s a perfect system. Well, nearly. 75 percent of Americans are God-‐fearing Christians; 75 percent of prisoners are God-‐fearing Christians. 10 percent of Americans are atheists; 0.2 percent of prisoners are atheists.
But anyway, there I was happily drawing my hero when my big brother Bob asked, “Why do you believe in God?” Just a simple question. But my mum panicked. “Bob,” she said in a tone that I knew meant, “Shut up.” Why was that a bad thing to ask? If there was a God and my faith was strong it didn’t matter what people said.
Oh…hang on. There is no God. He knows it, and she knows it deep down. It was as simple as that. I started thinking about it and asking more questions, and within an hour, I was an atheist.
Wow. No God. If mum had lied to me about God, had she also lied to me about Santa? Yes, of course, but who cares? The gifts kept coming. And so did the gifts of my new found atheism. The gifts of truth, science, nature. The real beauty of this world. I learned of evolution -– a theory so simple that only England’s greatest genius could have come up with it. Evolution of plants, animals and us –- with imagination, free will, love, humor. I no longer needed a reason for my existence, just a reason to live. And imagination, free will, love, humor, fun, music, sports, beer and pizza are all good enough reasons for living.
But living an honest life -– for that you need the truth. That’s the other thing I learned that day, that the truth, however shocking or uncomfortable, in the end leads to liberation and dignity.
So what does the question “Why don’t you believe in God?” really mean. I think when someone asks that they are really questioning their own belief. In a way they are asking “what makes you so special? “How come you weren’t brainwashed with the rest of us?” “How dare you say I’m a fool and I’m not going to heaven, f— you!” Let’s be honest, if one person believed in God he would be considered pretty strange. But because it’s a very popular view it’s accepted. And why is it such a popular view? That’s obvious. It’s an attractive proposition. Believe in me and live forever. Again if it was just a case of spirituality this would be fine.
“Do unto others…” is a good rule of thumb. I live by that. Forgiveness is probably the greatest virtue there is. But that’s exactly what it is -‐ a virtue. Not just a Christian virtue. No one owns being good. I’m good. I just don’t believe I’ll be rewarded for it in heaven. My reward is here and now. It’s knowing that I try to do the right thing. That I lived a good life. And that’s where spirituality really lost its way. When it became a stick to beat people with. “Do this or you’ll burn in hell.”
You won’t burn in hell. But be nice anyway.
Why don’t you believe in God? I get that question all the time. I always try to give a sensitive, reasoned answer. This is usually awkward, time consuming and pointless. People who believe in God don’t need proof of his existence, and they certainly don’t want evidence to the contrary. They are happy with their belief. They even say things like “it’s true to me” and “it’s faith.” I still give my logical answer because I feel that not being honest would be patronizing and impolite. It is ironic therefore that “I don’t believe in God because there is absolutely no scientific evidence for his existence and from what I’ve heard the very definition is a logical impossibility in this known universe,” comes across as both patronizing and impolite.
Arrogance is another accusation. Which seems particularly unfair. Science seeks the truth. And it does not discriminate. For better or worse it finds things out. Science is humble. It knows what it knows and it knows what it doesn’t know. It bases its conclusions and beliefs on hard evidence -- evidence that is constantly updated and upgraded. It doesn’t get offended when new facts come along. It embraces the body of knowledge. It doesn’t hold on to medieval practices because they are tradition. If it did, you wouldn’t get a shot of penicillin, you’d pop a leach down your trousers and pray. Whatever you “believe,” this is not as effective as medicine. Again you can say, “It works for me,” but so do placebos. My point being, I’m saying God doesn’t exist. I’m not saying faith doesn’t exist. I know faith exists. I see it all the time. But believing in something doesn’t make it true. Hoping that something is true doesn’t make it true. The existence of God is not subjective. He either exists or he doesn’t. It’s not a matter of opinion. You can have your own opinions. But you can’t have your own facts.
Why don’t I believe in God? No, no no, why do YOU believe in God? Surely the burden of proof is on the believer. You started all this. If I came up to you and said, “Why don’t you believe I can fly?” You’d say, “Why would I?” I’d reply, “Because it’s a matter of faith.” If I then said, “Prove I can’t fly. Prove I can’t fly see, see, you can’t prove it can you?” You’d probably either walk away, call security or throw me out of the window and shout, ‘’F—ing fly then you lunatic.”
This, is of course a spirituality issue, religion is a different matter. As an atheist, I see nothing “wrong” in believing in a god. I don’t think there is a god, but belief in him does no harm. If it helps you in any way, then that’s fine with me. It’s when belief starts infringing on other people’s rights when it worries me. I would never deny your right to believe in a god. I would just rather you didn’t kill people who believe in a different god, say. Or stone someone to death because your rulebook says their sexuality is immoral. It’s strange that anyone who believes that an all-powerful all-knowing, omniscient power responsible for everything that happens, would also want to judge and punish people for what they are. From what I can gather, pretty much the worst type of person you can be is an atheist. The first four commandments hammer this point home. There is a god, I’m him, no one else is, you’re not as good and don’t forget it. (Don’t murder anyone, doesn’t get a mention till number 6.)
When confronted with anyone who holds my lack of religious faith in such contempt, I say, “It’s the way God made me.”
But what are atheists really being accused of?
The dictionary definition of God is “a supernatural creator and overseer of the universe.” Included in this definition are all deities, goddesses and supernatural beings. Since the beginning of recorded history, which is defined by the invention of writing by the Sumerians around 6,000 years ago, historians have cataloged over 3700 supernatural beings, of which 2870 can be considered deities.
So next time someone tells me they believe in God, I’ll say “Oh which one? Zeus? Hades? Jupiter? Mars? Odin? Thor? Krishna? Vishnu? Ra?…” If they say “Just God. I only believe in the one God,” I’ll point out that they are nearly as atheistic as me. I don’t believe in 2,870 gods, and they don’t believe in 2,869.
I used to believe in God. The Christian one that is.
I loved Jesus. He was my hero. More than pop stars. More than footballers. More than God. God was by definition omnipotent and perfect. Jesus was a man. He had to work at it. He had temptation but defeated sin. He had integrity and courage. But He was my hero because He was kind. And He was kind to everyone. He didn’t bow to peer pressure or tyranny or cruelty. He didn’t care who you were. He loved you. What a guy. I wanted to be just like Him.
One day when I was about 8 years old, I was drawing the crucifixion as part of my Bible studies homework. I loved art too. And nature. I loved how God made all the animals. They were also perfect. Unconditionally beautiful. It was an amazing world.
I lived in a very poor, working-class estate in an urban sprawl called Reading, about 40 miles west of London. My father was a laborer and my mother was a housewife. I was never ashamed of poverty. It was almost noble. Also, everyone I knew was in the same situation, and I had everything I needed. School was free. My clothes were cheap and always clean and ironed. And mum was always cooking. She was cooking the day I was drawing on the cross.
I was sitting at the kitchen table when my brother came home. He was 11 years older than me, so he would have been 19. He was as smart as anyone I knew, but he was too cheeky. He would answer back and get into trouble. I was a good boy. I went to church and believed in God -– what a relief for a working-class mother. You see, growing up where I did, mums didn’t hope as high as their kids growing up to be doctors; they just hoped their kids didn’t go to jail. So bring them up believing in God and they’ll be good and law abiding. It’s a perfect system. Well, nearly. 75 percent of Americans are God-‐fearing Christians; 75 percent of prisoners are God-‐fearing Christians. 10 percent of Americans are atheists; 0.2 percent of prisoners are atheists.
But anyway, there I was happily drawing my hero when my big brother Bob asked, “Why do you believe in God?” Just a simple question. But my mum panicked. “Bob,” she said in a tone that I knew meant, “Shut up.” Why was that a bad thing to ask? If there was a God and my faith was strong it didn’t matter what people said.
Oh…hang on. There is no God. He knows it, and she knows it deep down. It was as simple as that. I started thinking about it and asking more questions, and within an hour, I was an atheist.
Wow. No God. If mum had lied to me about God, had she also lied to me about Santa? Yes, of course, but who cares? The gifts kept coming. And so did the gifts of my new found atheism. The gifts of truth, science, nature. The real beauty of this world. I learned of evolution -– a theory so simple that only England’s greatest genius could have come up with it. Evolution of plants, animals and us –- with imagination, free will, love, humor. I no longer needed a reason for my existence, just a reason to live. And imagination, free will, love, humor, fun, music, sports, beer and pizza are all good enough reasons for living.
But living an honest life -– for that you need the truth. That’s the other thing I learned that day, that the truth, however shocking or uncomfortable, in the end leads to liberation and dignity.
So what does the question “Why don’t you believe in God?” really mean. I think when someone asks that they are really questioning their own belief. In a way they are asking “what makes you so special? “How come you weren’t brainwashed with the rest of us?” “How dare you say I’m a fool and I’m not going to heaven, f— you!” Let’s be honest, if one person believed in God he would be considered pretty strange. But because it’s a very popular view it’s accepted. And why is it such a popular view? That’s obvious. It’s an attractive proposition. Believe in me and live forever. Again if it was just a case of spirituality this would be fine.
“Do unto others…” is a good rule of thumb. I live by that. Forgiveness is probably the greatest virtue there is. But that’s exactly what it is -‐ a virtue. Not just a Christian virtue. No one owns being good. I’m good. I just don’t believe I’ll be rewarded for it in heaven. My reward is here and now. It’s knowing that I try to do the right thing. That I lived a good life. And that’s where spirituality really lost its way. When it became a stick to beat people with. “Do this or you’ll burn in hell.”
You won’t burn in hell. But be nice anyway.
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