the angry atheist part 1

Okay, so let's look at it this way. The Gods are not real. Not in that absolute fashion that sweet, sweet science demands. Instead they occupy the collective headspace of an entire race of crazy people. If we were to interview each individual faith-based human, they would all give us their slant, their angle of the collective idea that is man's favourite imaginary friend. It is only because these people can agree on a couple core ideas that the gods "exist" at all.

Let's go further into this concept. Specifically my case. I had two main figureheads at which I aimed the poorly-constructed weapon which was my faith: Isis and Thoth. Now, the only way I could identify with these ideas was how they related to me. Isis, symbol for motherhood, for life and love and all that other fun stuff, was the only way I could love myself. Indirectly! How cheap and dirty is that shit? To be so entrenched in the idea that unfiltered self-love was somehow wrong or weird or to be frowned upon or ANY of that shit, to be so caught up in this that the only way I could allow me to feel love from me was through an imaginary fucking friend?!? Now that's an example of a stunted mind, of a mind incapable of experiencing anything positive except through a series of filters.

the absolute truth is my only weapon, it will be the spear that pierces the heavens and brings down the gods, the land the sea the skies are ours to claim....

Never allow anything to get between you and the truth.

Big whoop, wanna write about it?

This is how it is.  You have no purpose.  At least, no one has come gliding down a light ray to drop one off.  And they probably never will.  But so what?  No one comes to just hand you anything, you have to rip it out their hands, pull that bloody bundle from the monster's drooling jaw, so to speak.  It's simple.  You have a limited time on this earth to do as you wish, the manner of your days and their passing originates from the raw work of your will.  And what have you chosen to do up til this point?

Grind.

Yes dear writer/reader, you have dedicated many, many hours of your life to the simple and soulsucking motion of decay.  This is a world of absolutes.  There are no grey areas, no safe havens in which to dwell between creation and destruction.  Either you are working to make something of your time, your life, the hours you have been gifted with...

Or you are simply working as hard as you can to blur the lines between the hours, the days, the years, trying to eat huge chunks of time to speed your advance to the grave.

Our society seems geared for distraction.  Massive sensory assaults from every side seek to ruin our ability to think clearly about anything but what's on.  What's new, what's cool, what we can drink in like elixir to take away our worries and our fears.  Viewed from a distance, media resembles a weapon, built of light and sound.  I have had this weapon pointed at my temple for most of my life, now I barely notice it.  I don't know that I would recognize it but for it's sudden absence.

But here's the rub, oh beautiful bloodstained boys and girls:  It's a weapon of choice.  We allow it to remain fixed upon our vulnerable minds, we allow it to exist.  I allow it to exist.  Maybe I can't nullify this, maybe I can't reverse the tide of history and take media from the hearts and minds of people the world over, but I can choose to remove it from the seat of power it holds in my mind.  Just because the controller is there, doesn't mean it needs to be in my hands.

That's pretty important.  Probably the point of this whole ridiculous tangent.  In fact, lets see that one again:

"Just because the controller is there, doesn't mean it needs to be in my hands."

This is a big deal.  I've not been a worshipper of mindless escapism for years, but I've played the role because it allowed me to bond with those who did.  But it's a fucking lie!  I have one true obsession, and I've been ignoring it for entirely too long.  It isn't healthy.  I'm not a gamer.  That's a side dish.

I'm a writer, through and through.