Categories
ranting

miss you

Outside it’s raining. People scurry by the window with umbrellas or hoods puled low over their faces. The clouds deepen the early evening darkness. Street lights create little pools of radiance as their light reflects of the falling rain drops. Cars speed past down Connecticut Avenue. The light from inside illuminates an anti-war poster tapped to an ugly tree just outside.

Inside the air is filled with quiet jazz and conversation. Baristas call out orders, people chat as they drink their coffee, or tea. The window reflects the modern counter, high celling, drop lighting. It reflects the purple chairs. I sit in one of the chairs, my copy of this weeks Economist in my lap, an empty cup on the table next to me. Looking out at the rain.

My thoughts are half a world away in another coffee shop. Standing at the door, ready to head out into the rain. We wait for the light on Goswell Road to change, then dash out and cross the road. It’s only a couple of blocks back, but the rain is cold and the wind drives it around the umbrella no matter how you hold it. The two of us huddle behind the umbrella braced against the wind, she wraps her arm around mine and huddles as close as she can.

Little memories just sneak up on me all the time, vivid images, reminding me of how much I miss that time. Walking past a brick wall reminds me of a pub in Oxford, sitting with J███████ talking about nothing. The pattern in a carpet brings back the hallway of a hotel in Milan, A—– and I exhausted after a long night wondering the city. But most of the memories remind me of how much I miss her. The way she smiles, the way she pushes her hair behind her ear, the sound of her voice, the feel of her hand when she held mine. Nights spent walking around London, days spent sitting in coffee shops. Not a day goes buy that I don’t think of her, that I don’t wish I could find some way to be near her.

I miss you Tati

Categories
ranting

No solution

In an age where the president of America thinks he was chosen by God to defend freedom and an untold number of people are willing to strap dynamite to themselves and kill in the name of the same God, I think it is safe to say that terrorism is not the biggest (or worst) problem facing the world today—that honor goes to all religion’s extremist followers. Be they Jew, Gentile, Muslim, Hindi or followers of any religion, violence in the guise of faith is growing around the world.

Telling people that their faith is more or less violent than someone else’s is pointless as ALL faiths have followers who cloak their hate and aggression in prayer and penitence. No religion can claim to be free of such people, Christianity has it’s Catholic and Protestant para-militarist in Ireland—as well as it’s crusades, Islam has it’s many well documented extremist, Hindu’s are not so innocent either, even Tibetan Buddhist have had blood on their hands in the past. Religion does not fix the problem it only focuses it against people of ‘other’ faiths, and then blesses it.

The best solutions I have come across in my life are from Peter Singer and his camp—grounded in Utilitarian beliefs and in the ideas of Secular Humanism. The radical and extreme utility which Singer writes about arouses harsh, and loud, criticism from many religious camps (and quite a few others!) but secular humanism is an idea which has been mostly quiet. The biggest proponent of I which I have encountered is Salman Rushdie, a man with some experience dealing with religious extremism.

Rushdie is described by Michelle Goldberg, in this article [salon.com], as:

… A defender of an idea even less fashionable, at the moment, than moral relativism—secular humanism. It’s a cause some of our best thinkers, such as Hitchens and Martin Amis, are increasingly taking up. Though hardly politically expedient, the fight against religion’s tyranny makes intellectual and emotional sense right now. It could even replace the struggle against first-world imperialism as the organizing principle of radical thought, encompassing as it does the fight against the lunatics of al-Qaida, the butchers in Gujarat, the hard-line settlers in the West Bank, the rapists in the Catholic Church, the bombers of abortion clinics and, of course, our own attorney general.

That article was the fist time I had heard it called secular humanism, but the ideas permeate Rushdie’s none fiction writings—especially Step Across this Line. Googling on ‘Secular Humanism’ brings up the Council for Secular Humanism who define their idea this way:

  • A conviction that dogmas, ideologies and traditions, whether religious, political or social, must be weighed and tested by each individual and not simply accepted on faith.
  • Commitment to the use of critical reason, factual evidence, and scientific methods of inquiry, rather than faith and mysticism, in seeking solutions to human problems and answers to important human questions.
  • A primary concern with fulfillment, growth, and creativity for both the individual and humankind in general.
  • A constant search for objective truth, with the understanding that new knowledge and experience constantly alter our imperfect perception of it.
  • A concern for this life and a commitment to making it meaningful through better understanding of ourselves, our history, our intellectual and artistic achievements, and the outlooks of those who differ from us.
  • A search for viable individual, social and political principles of ethical conduct, judging them on their ability to enhance human well-being and individual responsibility.
  • A conviction that with reason, an open marketplace of ideas, good will, and tolerance, progress can be made in building a better world for ourselves and our children.

Sounds like a good idea… problem is, the rest of the web page for the Council on Secular Humanism reads more like a religion, and has a anti-faith ring to it. Now I consider myself an athiest– mostly I could not care less if there is or is not a god out there, whether is it only one God or many gods. I am here and I value my life, my relationships (with people of many faiths,) and I understand that by doing things to help those around me and those with bigger problems than mine, I can make my world a better place—an inherently selfish idea. If there is/are a/some higher authorit(y|ies) than pure chance and my life does not get me into a good position for any possible afterlife then I guess I am screwed… C’est la vie. I just don’t believe it. I don’t buy into Pascal’s Wager [wikipedia.org].

Anyway, in the end the only real use of any of this would be if all people value others lives, accept others religious beliefs, and learn to take responsibility for their own actions and situations—stop blaming them on fate, others faith, your ancestors, my ancestors or anyone else and fix what you can and accept what you can’t.

Categories
quotes

it is the soldier

From an editorial in The Frederick News-Post by way of Jim at work:

These are not my words, but they express how I feel. They were spoken by Father Dennis Edward O’Brian, a sergeant in the United States Marine Corps: ‘It is the soldier, not the reporter, who has given us the freedom of the press. It is the soldier, not the poet, who has given us the freedom of speech. It is the soldier, not the campus organizer, who gives us the freedom to demonstrate. It is the soldier who salutes the flag, who serves beneath the flag, and whose coffin is draped b the flag, who allows the protester to burn the flag.’

A lot of people forgot that when the troops came back from Vietnam, lets how that no matter the outcome of the current conflict, no matter how we feel about it, we don’t forget it when the soldiers come home this time.

Categories
ranting

free the mouse!

free the mouse

get the faq’s!

Categories
ranting

weekend update

Since I don’t have a working computer at home and therefore do not write journal entries between Friday morning and Monday morning here is a quick update of the weekend:

exit hillbilly stage left:

Dave Lawson, the guy who hired me at Genesis left Genesis on Friday to head back to West Virginia. He is leaving because he wants to be closer to his parents as his father has gotten sick. A bunch of us got together on Friday at GSC for lunch and to tell stories. It was fun, there where about 10 of us there, we listened to Lawsons stories of strange things that happen in West Virginia—like towns with strange names: Hurricane, Nitro, Gad and the best, Big Ugly. We also go into a argument about the war—ended up being codejunkie and I vs. everyone else. Funny that he two guys I would have pegged as the most understanding where the to most adamant that we should ‘nuke the fuckers.’ I don’t have a solution to the war, but it seams to me that very few people I talk to over the age of 30 take the time to think of the consequences of all this—they swallowed the ‘terrorism’ and ‘liberation’ and ‘it will cause a domino effect in the region’ bullshit—hook, line and sinker. Anyway, good luck to Dave, hope he enjoys his new job.

but where do they put it?:

Friday afternoon S██████ called me to ask if I wanted to join him and a bunch of the Pride Alliance people from Mason at a Drag Show at George Washington University. Well, it’s been several years since I went to a drag show—since I was roommates with a gay guy and worked at the club where the drag show was. They’re funny as hell, and as I had nothing better to do I went. Other than it being hotter than hell in the room, and the queens being a bit more than fashionable late it was fun. Except that I got a phone call I had to take halfway through and did not get off the phone till the show was almost over. There was a gorgeous girl in the audience who reminded me so much of C███████ the I spent as much time starring at her as the queen (not that that’s bad for a strait guy!)

Can peanuts be social?:

On Saturday J███████ and K– came over to my place and we made dinner—penne with Alfredo sauce, salad and I don’t know what it was but it was made of eggplant, onion, garlic and what-not sauteed in olive oil and it was really good, along with some red wine. After dinner we went to Xando’s for coffee and J███████ and K– got Smores. I played with the Tiki fire and at some point J███████ announced that I had the social maturity of a peanut. Now this is a downgrade from my status—according to C███████, of having he social maturity level of an eight year old. But I don’t know, I mean peanuts can’t burn the utensils and launch burning sticks across the room with a straw.