Also:

This picture makes me very happy.

Intolerance for Tolerance

I've been arguing on facebook a lot lately. But I really didn't think that posting this was going to start one:

I mean, really, that doesn't seem like something that would start an argument. I even had a Christian friend weigh in on it:

"If I were truely religious I would look at it from the terms of sacraficing yourself for your child. I would still take the drug regardless of religious beliefs. Take the drug, save the child. Besides in the end if there truely is God (or whomever/whatever is important in your religion) then he or she may understand and save you anyways. Your child will have a life and will be able to live. You will still live but just a different life as far as you're aware. People aren't always smart. One thing the church does teach and that is that we are all flawed in some way. We can do good things but we are also sinners. If taking the drug in order to save the child is a sin then I guess I would be a sinner. Whomever wrote the comment below is not a good person in my mind. There are some good Christians and some bad Christians."

But then a 'friend' of mine steps in, and has this to say: 

"Well to be fair, if you set someone up like that, paint them into a corner KNOWING what they believe in advance..."

I don't see how it's a set up, and thus, we start arguing. My point is that someone stating that they would not only sacrifice their child's life for their beliefs, but that they consider it a moral action to do so, is horrifying. His point seems to be that any criticism of another's beliefs is intolerance, and therefore not okay.

Between this friend and my mom, I seem to be doomed to be forever defending myself against extreme tolerance. Yes, everyone should have the right to believe however they please, and in an ideal world, their beliefs wouldn't have any impact on me. However, some people insist on making decisions for others based on their own personal beliefs-- I do not see how accepting this behavior is in line with the idea that people should be allowed to believe whatever they want. "Believe whatever you want... but it offends my belief if you want to get an abortion." Not okay. 

I'm honestly not sure why I haven't unfriended this guy. He annoys the crap out of me at least 90% of the time. 

Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Iske!

The wedding was today. It went really, really well. In fact, the whole day did.

We got up early, to a freshly cooked pancake breakfast, so that we could go get Jamie's nails done at 9:30. This was a somewhat unpleasant experience, as we had been out drinking last night and had slept on couches, and I woke up with the first hangover headache I've ever had. Fortunately I had water and aspirin and coffee and breakfast, so the effects faded quickly.

The nail place had been recommended by her hair stylist, and I have to say, she was very right to send us there. Jamie got a full set of real acryllic nails (as opposed to the fiberglass ones), french manicured, dried and ready to go... in twenty minutes. That's ridiculous. And they only cost $25. If I ever have an occasion to have fake nails put on, I'm going there. During this process Jamie and I finalized the timeline for the reception so we could give it to the DJ, something that had been stressing Jamie out a lot. I think she really appreciated that we could work on it while she was getting her nails done-- multitasking for the win!

Next up was the hair appointment, at 11:30. Because I was with Jamie and her mother was not, I was deputized to chronicle the event. So naturally I took pictures of every single step of the fairly elaborate hair she had. Her camera died partway through, so I took more than half of them on my phone. Gotta love smartphones-- I have with me at all times a camera good enough to take fairly good pictures, and I can instantly upload them or email them if I so desire. The hair ended up both beautiful and practically immobilized-- which is exactly what you want, in a hair style that needs to last for many hours, through various forms of stress. We had worried a bit about the fact that the dress had to go on over her head, but it ended up being fine.

Then it was back to the house, where I got myself ready while Jamie visited with family she hadn't seen in years. It wasn't long before we had to head to the church, though. We got there very early, before anyone except the pastor (more on him later), so we had a lot of down time. I painted my nails-- all of the bridesmaids had the same nail polish-- and Jamie tried not to stress over the fact that her makeup artist was apparently lost, as she had called to say they were close and then not arrived. She did finally get there, though, and once she had gotten herself dressed, she did an amazing job on Jamie's makeup. I went off to do my own makeup, and got myself all ready to go. By the time Jamie was done with her makeup we were down to half an hour before the ceremony, so I ordered her to go pee before we had to put her in the dress. In the end the timing was almost perfect-- she got into the dress about five minutes before the ceremony was due to start. It took some time because it had a corset back, which made me very grateful I've had practice on real corsets, as I am good at lacing people in fairly quickly.

The ceremony went very well. Jamie's father was able to walk her down the aisle, without even a cane. The music was lovely, and everyone looked wonderful. Brett and Jamie could have spoken louder during the vows, and Jamie got the giggles at one point, but it was good. Except for the pastor.

I hate to break up a report of such a wonderful day with this, but I can't not rant a little. Pastor Thompson is a misogynistic asshat. Jamie likes him, so I didn't say anything to her, but damn, did the man get on my nerves. It began during yesterday's rehearsal. Jamie's sister, Joey, was late. She is often late, so much so that it's become a joke among her friends and family. We were contemplating finding some way to help her get better about it, and Pastor Thompson offered a suggestion: find her a man. He said it as a sort-of joke, and if it had been the only one, I'd have figured that I just didn't like his sense of humor. But he said several other things that made me twitch as well, and I came away feeling like he was incredibly sexist. Also homophobic, which Jamie says is true, but that is neither here nor there.

Then there was today's service. The entirety of his message can be summed up thus: God has a plan for you, God made women to serve men, and marriage is more about Jesus than each other. Each of those three points make me twitch, but the first and the third I had expected. The second one, not so much. He read from Genesis about how woman was made from Adam's rib to give Adam a helper, he talked about how a wife's duty is to serve her husband, and the entire time I had to stand there and smile because the damned ceremony was being videotaped and my face would be visible. I was extremely grateful for the car ride to the reception, where I could rant to my heart's content with George and Bob and not worry about offending any of the family or friends-- this was the main pastor at Jamie's lifeling church, I have a feeling a lot of them love him. FSM only knows why.

Right after the ceremony, of course, we went to sign the marriage certificate. I got to be Jamie's witness; that makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. And then there were the pictures. Jamie had told her mom she could only have twenty minutes for pictures, which was good. Even so it was quite an experience. Between six and twelve people taking pictures in addition to Jamie's mom, so every pose had to last long enough for everyone to get a good shot. And of course there were a lot of poses. Jamie by herself (fix the train of the dress, it must be arranged perfectly!), Jamie with Brett, Jamie with her parents (fix the train, she moved!), Jamie with her grandpa, Jamie with her whole family, Jamie and Brett with her parents, Jamie with her bridesmaids (the train!), Jamie with the groomsmen (here, put your feet under the train), Jamie and Brett with the groomsmen, Jamie and Brett with his parents, Jamie and Brett with his family, Brett with the groomsmen (Jamie, you can go-- wait! We need a picture of the train!)...

Finally we managed to get Jamie back to the library we had turned into a dressing room to attempt to bustle her dress. Holy crap, it needs to come with instructions. There are two layers to bustle, one which has satin ribbons to tie and one which has strips of lace, but you have to match up the champagne colored strings with each other and the white ones with each other, and I felt very silly that I had to turn the task over to her mom because I had no idea. We did get it eventually, which meant it was time for the reception.

Upon arriving at the reception Jamie and Brett were showered with bubbles-- rather than rice or whatever else people like to use-- and then there is a buffet, build your own burritos. Then comes the toast. All of Brett's groomsmen said something, largely because they wanted to embarrass each other by making each other speak. I put a bit more thought into my own toast, saying a few things about and to Brett and Jamie, and offering this blessing:

May your mornings bring joy and your evenings bring peace.
May your troubles grow few as your blessings increase.
May the saddest day of your future
Be no worse than the happiest day of your past.
May your hands be forever clasped in friendship
And your hearts joined forever in love.
Your lives are very special,
God has touched you in many ways.
May his blessings rest upon you
And fill all your coming days.

Yes, I know, it talks about God's blessings, and I'm an atheist. But Jamie is not, nor are many of the people who were there, so it seemed appropriate. It went over very well. And that was the last big thing-- we had to do the first dance, and we had to do the bouquet toss, and the cake, but none of those were stressful. Mostly, it was fun.

I caught the bouquet. I'm not really sure why-- I just saw that it was going to be easy to catch, and so I jumped up and snagged it out of the air, without really thinking about it. There is a fantastic picture of it, where it looks like it was staged because I struck such a dancer pose in the air. And I danced, a lot. I got Bob to do the first couple's dance with me, and then I did the Electric Slide and the Chicken Dance and the Time Warp and the YMCA, and then I dragged Bob back onto the dancefloor for Rascal Flatts's "God Bless the Broke Road" because I was a little tipsy and I love that song.

All in all, it was a really good day. Surprisingly enough, this is the first time I have done a wedding and NOT had it strengthen my desire to not have one myself. In fact, I started thinking about how it could be kind of nice. Even with all the stressing and the sexist pastor and everything else, Jamie was just so happy all day. It was beautiful.

Wedding Blues

So, my best friend is getting married tomorrow. She has been super stressed (about things mostly unrelated to the wedding), and yesterday she sent me a text saying that she didn't want to do it anymore, it just wasn't worth all the stress. I've been saying that for years.

This is one of the things where, in spite of my dislike for feminists, I tend to get a little touchy. As young girls, we are taught to wish we were princesses, wish that our handsome prince will come and rescue us from whatever, wish that we will fall in love and get married and live happily ever after. As a result, most girls grow up thinking that finding a boyfriend is extremely important, sometimes more important than anything else. We're willing to break our parents rules and skip our homework and classes to be with the boy we have decided is The One, even if we're not yet old enough to drive. Happily Ever After is the goal; a handsome, wonderful, loving, doting husband and children.

I cannot think of a time in my life that I have wanted children, and the older I get, the more annoying I find the assumption that I am going to change my mind some day. Mothers are the most irritating. They will complain about how awful pregnancy is, with the aches and pains and cravings and nausea and everything else, they will complain about their little brat misbehaving or not listening or getting up too early in the morning or demanding things they can't afford... and when I ask why it is that women always say pregnancy is magical and motherhood is the best thing ever, they immediately forget everything they were complaining about and say that of course, it's a miracle, they love it! I think there's some sort of evolutionary brainwashing going on; the species would not survive if mothers did not feel this way and want more.

But more than that, the pressure to get married annoys me. At least I can understand the evolutionary reasons for women wanting children. Marriage is a social construct that I think perpetuates mostly because no one bothers to question the assumption that it is the ultimate goal. I had a baffling conversation a couple of years ago, with an ex of mine who was, at the time, still pining for me. I told him that I was perfectly happy being single, that I was content to focus on my schooling and my career. Do you know what his reply was? "Well, you'll change your mind when you meet the right guy." (I told this story to a fabulous woman, Connie Willis, and her reply amuses me to this day. She looked at me very seriously and said "No jury in the world would convict you." Priceless.)

What does that mean, anyway? That when I meet the right guy I'll forget all about the plans I have for my life? Or that I will realize that I was miserable until I met him? Either way, what the fuck?

I have met a guy that I might call the "right" one, by the way. I am not writing this because I am single and bitter about it. I got my life in order, and on a whim I went on a dating site (they're good for my ego; I'm attractive enough that I get a lot of messages), and I got a message from an intelligent, interesting young man. We've been dating for almost a year and a half now. I have not realized that I was miserable before, and I have certainly not abandoned my plans. He loves the fact that I am as ambitious as he is; if or schooling puts us on opposite sides of the country, we'll miss each other, but neither of us would ask the other to put our relationship ahead of our careers. I do intend to be with him for probably the rest of my life. I might even marry him-- largely for the tax benefits and such that come from it.

And then I look at my best friend, the girl who's getting married tomorrow. She is happy. She has spent a lot of her life trying to find a man to marry and she does want to have children. And that's fine-- she is happy. As long as people don't assume that I want that, I have no problem with it. But she is stressed to the point of getting herself sick over the wedding. If I have a wedding, I want it to be fun. Period. Maybe we'll rent out the local museum and get married under the baleful eye sockets of the T. Rex skeleton they have in the lobby. Maybe I'll wear a lab coat with my wedding dress. Maybe we'll have a TARDIS replica in the background and invite guests to come in costume. Maybe I'll have bridesmen instead of bridesmaids. Maybe I'll have bridesmaids but put them in lab coats, too. Maybe we'll serve liquid nitrogen ice cream.

But if I ever feel like planning a wedding is going to stress me out, I'm going to call it off, and just sign the papers at the court house. It's not worth it.

Ask An Atheist Day!

Tomorrow (4/19) is National Ask An Atheist Day. There are a lot of misunderstandings about what atheists are, what they believe, and why, and this event is an attempt to correct that.

To use a personal example, here are some quotes from a conversation I have been having recently on facebook:

• ...while Atheism/Naturalism cannot fully fit the description of a religion (which is a word of considerable vagueness) it does rise to the level of a Quasi-religious worldview, postulating answers to the questions: Is there a God? How should we live? Is there life after death? What is our place in the universe? How are we related to other creatures? And the answers it gives are not based on conclusive reasoning, but require a faith in that particular worldview because reason is itself a matter of faith.
• The only response to ... Atheism would be a meaningless madness, deadening apathy, and suicidal insanity. 
• Now, if I was less consistent in my Atheism, I could try to sneak in some things which would allow for more sanity, joy, and hope in life. I could claim that Reason was reliable in spite of the lack of support and even contradictions to the consequences of starting from a materialist philosophy. I could claim that relationships matter. I could borrow ideas of order and objective truth and infuse them into my claims about the universe. All inconsistent with my Atheism, but who cares?
• If there is no God then evidence suggests that I have no reason to believe in reason, morality, free will, the veracity of my experiences or anything else.
• I know you say you wonder at the universe... But I live in a wonder-filled one.
• "The believer is quite free to believe that there is a considerable amount of settled order and development in the universe. But the materialist is not allowed to admit into his spotless machine the slightest speck of spiritualism or miracle." It seems obvious to me which are the free thinkers.

... the whole conversation has been incredibly frustrating, starting with his ideas of what an atheist really is (in spite of him not being an atheist himself). It frustrates me that everyone has their own idea of what it means when I say that I'm an atheist... and that they often do not listen when I correct them. Theists-- that is, people who are not atheists-- have some really odd ideas about what it means to be an atheist, and some even stranger ones about what it implies. 

In any case, for the entirety of the day, I'll answer any questions I am asked-- preferably about atheism, but silly questions are fun, too. We're setting up a table in the student center on campus tomorrow, hopefully we'll get a lot of interest, answer some good questions, start some good conversations.

And actually, as long as this blog post is up, I'll answer questions in the comments, too. :)

The value of a day off

I've been doing a lot, lately. School has been busy, I've been working on starting a new organization, I've volunteered for four planning committees for next year's Conference for Undergraduate Women in Physics, I've gone to career events, I've built a resume, I've sent a flurry of emails to various people, about everything from club business to inquiring about opportunities at Lockheed Martin, I've got my schedule for summer and fall planned, I've decided to declare an Area of Special Interest (which is like a minor, but fewer classes) in Space and Planetary Science and Engineering, and today I was dealing with the mess that is financial aid and paying for all of this. On top of all of that, a dear friend of mine is getting married in ten days, and I am maid of honor for her, and today her dad ended up in the ICU with clots in his brain. Oh, and there's the birthday party I went to, and rehearsals and planning meetings for the ensemble my mom and I sing in.

It's been a busy, stressful couple of weeks.

Mostly, I have been loving it. But I haven't had a whole lot of time to relax.

Today, I took a day off. Not from all the things I had to do-- obviously, I still had a lot to do, I couldn't take time off from everything-- but from being, well, me. The me that I have been, lately. The poised, confident, together, professional adult woman that I have been lately is awesome, but she is a little exhausting. I didn't really decide to take a day off; I stayed with my boyfriend for a night, so I didn't have a change of clothes or a hairbrush or anything, and I didn't get a chance to shower (because he doesn't have shampoo, and my hair is unmanageable without it.) So I put on one of his much-too-large-for-me t-shirts, and I threw my tangled hair back into a ponytail, and I let myself be a slob today.

I don't particularly like feeling like a slob, most of the time. I feel like I smell bad and that people will notice, or that they'll see the hairs that grow on my chin that I didn't get a chance to deal with, or they'll see how greasy my hair is, or how tangled it is. I always feel self-conscious when I haven't put any effort into my appearance, which may stun my friends, as I am not known to wear makeup or dress nicely terribly often. Dressing up has the opposite effect, for me-- if I look good, I feel better about myself. It's like putting on armor-- I feel more prepared for whatever life can throw at me.

But every once in a while it's nice to take a day off. Every once in a while it's good to remind myself that I don't have to be perfect all the time, that I am allowed to have off days, that I can get away with looking like a slob, that it doesn't really matter what they think (unless I have an interview or a presentation or something, in which case I'd dress up anyway).

Tomorrow I have to go back to being together; tomorrow is the inaugural meeting of the new SSA group at Mines, and I'm giving a presentation, and will be introducing myself as the president. I have to be me again for that. But today... today it was nice to not have that pressure.

The Old Boys' Club

When I was born, my dad tells me, he worried about the fact that I was a girl. Not that he thought I (and my sister, for that matter) would be any less capable of achieving our dreams, but he worried that we would not have as many opportunities. That was the eighties-- things were improving, but they were certainly not all the way there yet. They aren't today, either.

My parents did not press gender issues on my sister and I. I was allowed to wear all the frilly dresses I wanted, and my sister was encouraged to do all the sports she wanted. They shopped at "Play Fair Toys," a toy store that sadly no longer exists, where everything was non-discriminatory and Barbie was nowhere to be seen. And I was always, always told that I could do anything I wanted, when I grew up. I was brilliant and capable, they told me, and nothing would stop me if I didn't want it to. As a child, it never occurred to me that girls were not as smart as boys, or not as good at science and math-- to be honest, I always thought the opposite. Boys were strong, girls were smart. Boys were good at physical things, girls were good at school things.

When I showed an interest in science, my parents encouraged that as much as they had encouraged everything else, from the frilly dresses I loved as a kid to the sports Jess played to ballet classes. They-- well, Santa-- got me a telescope and the MASSIVE Smithsonian chemistry set that you probably can't buy anymore because it's unsafe. I was put into advanced science and math classes in school, and my mom took me to a summer chemistry class for kids up at CU Boulder. And when, many years later, I decided I wanted to study physics and attend the Colorado School of Mines, they were proud. No one-- not me, not my family, not my friends-- questions whether I could do it. Of course I could-- hadn't they said all along that I could do anything I wanted?

My dad worried, though. Those old, nagging doubts about my being a girl came back full force, as I prepared to go into a field that had always been and still was very much dominated by men. It's an old boys' club, he told me. Are you sure you are ready for this? he asked. He wasn't trying to dissuade me; Dad worries, it's just what he does. He was trying to warn me. I might never have met anyone who thought I couldn't do something because I was a girl, but they were out there, and choosing to study physics and go to Mines, I was increasing the chances that I would run into them.

This is something I think about a lot; the fact that so many people have warned me about something that I have never felt the effect of. I wonder if I am merely oblivious to it, or perhaps if other people are more sensitive. I wonder if perhaps I was always so far ahead of everyone else that it didn't matter. (Yes, I have a healthy ego. It's also not an unreasonable thing for me to wonder.) If I had been less advanced, would people have discouraged me because of my gender? Or was I just incredibly lucky, to have led a life where such things never touched me?

Every year, the American Physical Society (a professional organization for physicists and people interested in physics) sponsors a Convention for Undergraduate Women in Physics, on about half a dozen campuses around the country. This year, in January, several of our students went, and they offered to have Mines be one of the host campuses next year. One of the really interesting things about this convention is that it is organized almost entirely by students; they were asking for volunteers to help out. So I signed up; I'm on four committees. Not only is this something that I think is a really good idea, something that I care a lot about, it's also something that will look really, really good on a resume.

Next year is going to be a really busy year...

Babies!

I don't intend to have children.

For years my grandmother (among others) has been telling me that some day I would change my mind. Well, I'm 27 now, and I'm still feeling no desire for them. Plus, I'll be in school for another three or four years at least, and that's if I don't go for a PhD. If I do, who knows? Another couple of years after that, more if I decide to try to work while I do it. And I would want to get established in my career, before I even thought about children, plus I would want the father to also be in a good, steady career, since I would have to take some time off for maternity leave... long story short, even if I were to change my mind at some point, it's going to be at least ten years before I'm ready, and 37 is a bit old to start a family. But really, those are just excuses. I don't want children.

Even so, they can be really cute sometimes.

Today I went to a little girl's first birthday party. Amira is my brother-in-law's sister's child. I have no idea what relation she is to me. She's a sweet little girl, though. When we got there she was playing with a partially deflated balloon that her parents had given to her because it was not likely to pop if she played with it too hard. A little while later she had been given a helium-filled balloon, which she held by the ribbon and carried around for at least twenty minutes.

After lunch we opened her presents, and that was delightful, too. It didn't take her long to learn how it went-- her dad would give her a box whose paper she could tear to her heart's content, or a bag that had more paper in it she could crinkle and tear. Sometimes she would even notice that there was something else in the bag or the box and get that out, but often she was more entertained by the paper. She got a lot of things that weren't that entertaining to her-- clothes and things in boxes, like a baby pool-- so that makes some sense. Some of the things she was delighted by-- toys that she could make do things or make noise, or things that were soft. My mom had gotten her two little stuffed kitties (because Amira loves my mom's cats) that she rolled around on the floor with and squealed delightedly over.

Then came the cake. Her parents had not, up until today, given her anything with refined sugar. She has had fruit, and she loves the sweet things that she has had, but she had never had anything like the decadent flourless chocolate cake that they gave her today. When they put it in front of her she didn't seem to recognize that it was food at first. Then she poked at it gently, but wouldn't dig in until they gave her a fork, which I think is amusing. Of course, once she got a taste of it, she was delightful, and it was all over her-- her face, her hands, her hair, her dress, everywhere. Which is exactly as it should be. Probably my favorite picture of myself as a baby was from my first birthday. There's a before and after to it: the cake, a glorious, light blue care bear cake, actually in the shape of a bear... and then me, fistfulls of icing, icing all over my face, looking like the happiest kid in the world. It's adorable.

So yeah. Children can be pretty adorable. As long as I'm not the one changing the diapers and dealing with the tantrums and such.

(I know, I missed a golden opportunity to make baby-eating jokes, and it's Easter*, but this post was long enough.)

*Atheists traditionally get together for a nice baby roast** on Easter, you know

**Some prefer fetuses, but I have a pretty big family, and babies serve more people

HPMOR

I have news (which is also related to why I am not posting much today): the single most hilarious, fantastic fanfic I have ever read has new chapters up.

Harry Potter and the Methods of Rationality is written by Eliezer Yudkowsky of Less Wrong, which has one of the most interesting (I'd say "understandable" but I think my perspective on that is skewed) explanations of quantum physics I have ever encountered. The premise of the fic is fairly simple: The Boy Who Lived was raised by scientists to think like a scientist, and then he gets his Hogwarts letter. This is fascinating, all of the science is perfectly real, and it changes things considerably. It's also hilarious-- Harry's sense of humor is something else. If you read no further, make sure to read at least through chapter five, where Harry meets Draco Malfoy for the first time. It's hilarious. In addition to this, the author has determined that at no point in the story will anyone hold the Idiot Ball-- that is, no character will ever act stupid for the sake of the plot. This involves a lot of Lampshade Hanging (if you don't recognize the term, go check out TV tropes, but be warned: you may well get sucked in), where Harry remarks on how idiotic some of the events of the original books are. 

Anyway, I got distracted reading it, and now I've got to go to bed. But check it out, it's awesome. Also, Voldemort horcruxed the Pioneer plaque. Just saying.

Herding Cats

Today, I'm wearing a button with the logo of the Secular Student Alliance. This makes me a little nervous, for a couple of reasons. One, I'm not the most naturally social person, and I am wearing this button in the hopes that people will ask me about it and I can tell them about the group I am trying to start. I am a little afraid that it will have the effect I want, and also a little afraid that it will not, and then I'll have to find a better way. Two, I'm not certain what I will tell people if they do ask me about it; there's been some difficulty with communication, which I will talk more about it a bit. And three, of course, I wonder if it will change people's perception of me in a negative fashion. It is not so obvious as the sticker I'd put on my tablet if I were sure it would stick-- that one says "I'm an atheist! Ask away!" or something of the sort, because the SSA likes to host "Ask an atheist" events. In fact it's probably too subtle for anyone who didn't know what to look for to recognize, which means most of the people who would know what it meant would be friendly, but...

Story time. I've been an atheist for much longer than I have known I was. Once I realized I was an atheist, I didn't have a big coming out or anything. Nor did I feel I was hiding-- my closest friends knew how I felt, why should I tell everyone? Then one night, after a few drinks, I had someone ask me straight up if I was an atheist, and I told him yes, I was... and he stopped talking to me. He avoided me for weeks. And then when he did start talking to me again, it was weird and awkward, like he didn't know how he was supposed to treat me. That is far less severe than I know others have faced. Public perception of atheists is extremely bad-- a recent survey said people trust us about as much as they trust rapists. Things are improving-- where we used to be the most hated group in America, we've now been displaced by the Tea Party. Of course, that could just be because they're louder and more obnoxious. There are a lot of people who are afraid to let the world know that they don't believe in god.

In part, I am afraid of how people will react, too... but in part, I am simply unsure if I want to take this on. It seems a bit like tilting at windmills, trying to alter public perception of such a group of people. I will take it on, though. I made that decision before I set the wheels in motion to start this group. Speaking of which...
Organizing atheists, it has been said, is a little like herding cats. We all very much value our own thoughts and reason, and therefore getting us to follow anyone else is a bit difficult. At least, that's my theory on why we're so difficult to organize. Anyway. When I arrived at Mines and found that there wasn't an atheist/secular/nontheist/skeptics/ANYTHING group, I was a bit miffed. Surely, at a school where everyone is studying science in one way or another, there would be more of us? But no. There are eleven Christian groups, one Muslim group, and nothing for the rest of us. So, when I was getting things in order this semester, I thought I would see about finding others here, maybe starting a group. That set things in motion-- a board member from the SSA contacted me, I met with him as soon as spring break was over, and things are going well. Mostly.

Another person on campus, it turns out, requested a group starting packet back in January. Nate promptly emailed him about meeting and talking about things. And then heard nothing, until last week. Matt (this other student) says that he's gotten a lot of the legwork done, he's found other interested students, and he apologizes for not replying and invites Nate to a meeting on Tuesday... but does not say where this meeting is. Now, I would be happy to collaborate with other students, especially if they've done the part that I find hardest already. But if he vanishes for two months and then doesn't even give us a location... well, the kindest thing I can think of is that he's a space cadet, who forgets things when he's busy. Which makes me wonder how suitable he would be for running a group of this kind. Nate, it seems, is as wary as I am. If we cannot reach Matt to find this meeting tomorrow, how long should we give it before we give up on him and I just do it myself? I don't know.

I would rather avoid this drama. There's bound to be drama enough once the group gets going (it's inevitable, really), I'd rather not have any before we even get off the ground. *sigh*

Starting again

This semester has been a very interesting one so far, both in the subject matter of my classes and in the less academic parts of school. Last spring did not leave me in a terribly good place emotionally, and the forced semester off this fall didn't help matters at all. Fighting clinical depression (as I have for years), I became convinced that I didn't belong at Mines, that I wasn't good enough and that I just didn't fit. So when I went back this spring, I decided I was going to try to work on that, in addition to my academics. Last spring I often came home between classes to take a nap or eat lunch; this time I built my schedule to not allow that. Last spring I hardly talked to anyone in or out of class; this time I began attending clubs and hanging out with people. Last spring I fought through my depression on my own; this time, I got a counselor the first week of classes and got on zoloft a week later. It has made this spring a very different experience than last.

It started slowly; I began hanging out at the bagel shop on campus, where the workers (who are not themselves students) befriended me almost immediately. They got me chatting with other people, too. Then I started attending the local chapter of the Society for Physics Students. When they asked for volunteers to go judge a science fair, I actually went-- last year I would not have done so. And it was a great time.

Now, spring break has passed, and I've got even more happening. I'm working on starting a group on campus, an affiliate of the Secular Student Alliance. I met with a board member (and current grad student) about it, exchanged emails, talked with a potential faculty adviser, and am working on figuring out the rules for advertising-- I've got the price for classified ads in the paper, I need to find out rules for posting fliers. I've never even been an officer in a club before (though I am thinking about running for secretary in the SPS), and here I am, getting ready to start one and run it, and doing pretty damned well. The fact that the SSA has an insane amount of support for affiliate groups helps, but that doesn't make me feel any less fantastic about how well this is all going.

And on top of that, while looking at the school newspaper's website, I saw that they said they were "always hiring staff writers" and that anyone interested should email. They probably don't pay much-- it doesn't say on the site-- but it's by the word, which means that it would be as much or as little as I thought I could handle. So I decided to send them an email. I mentioned a bit of my background, but I'm not sure I needed to have done so-- within a day I got a reply that they would love to have me on the team, and that I should come to a staff meeting on Monday.

What a difference from a year ago.