atheism

Page Nine, website outline

                      “And you hate religion?”
      “It just seems juvenile, a child’s conception of reality.
       I’m always a little surprised when I find reasonably
       intelligent people who haven’t outgrown it.”
 
                   Rebecca Goldstein
                   The Mind-Body Problem
 
 
 

Yes, I’m an atheist, and have been for many years, and have no intention to change that.

I’m an atheist. When I say that to some people, they get this truly mean-spirited look on their faces. The same look I get from some people when I say “I have 14 animals,” or “I have 25 animals.” A look both irritated and appalled, as if I’d just said “I burn babies in my backyard.” Having a lot of animals and being an atheist, these are apparently completely reprehensible things: like burning babies in the backyard.

There are also people who like to say to you, “There are no atheists in the trenches.” This is an old saw that comes from wartime. When you are in the trenches and being fired upon, you cry out to god. Well, I’ve been in the trenches. The trenches of the psychological war that has been my life, and since I became an atheist at the age of 23, I have never once cried out for  a god when I was suffering so much that I didn’t think I could take another step. I have, however, cried out for human companionship and empathy, and have usually only received it in very parsimonious fashion, if I received it at all.

And there are the endless attempts by Christians to convert me. Christians both Catholic and Protestant cannot simply accept me as an atheist: they must try to bring me back to god. Since I was raised a Baptist, duly saved and born again and baptized by immersion, they see me as simply having wandered from god, from my true and legitimate state of christianity, and I only need to wander back. Back to the one place they see as right and good. The one place where they can see me as right and good. Why can’t they just leave me alone, leave me my own beliefs, and take me as an atheist. I don’t try to convert them to my way of belief. Why are christians so bloody arrogant that they take it as their right to nag me and plaque me over god.

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read…  Mishibone Neverending solitaire

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 all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2010-2012 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

 

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a website, a scrapbook, an unamerikan story

 Page One, website outline

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turners falls, massachusetts

thursday 21 january 2010

why is my story unamerikan? the first answer is that  amerikans like to have stories about people who triumphed, despite having the deck stacked against them. the deck has been stacked against me since childhood in several very significant ways, and I have not triumphed. one of the things my story is is a story of failure, and amerikans don’t want that kind. everything must be horatio alger and bambi: the obligatory happy endings. nothing gets us amerikans down. we just keep truckin’ till that ole sun starts shinin’ again. to heck with all  that. didn’t I fall for that nonsense, and other nonsense like it, long enough? there are several other reasons as well that the true events of my life since 2006 are unamerikan , but I leave that to you. if you read enough pages, if you have a mind that can reason things out, then you’ll discover this other unamerikanism.

and the word story? there are stories that are fiction, and stories that are true. mine are true, with the exception of the single novel I’m putting on this website. you might choose to decide that some events I relate are not true, and that’s no doubt rooted in your own psychological longings for denial. but the set of your particular mind does not make a liar or a fantasist out of me. I’ve never in my life made up stories, except in the days when I was writing fiction. and I don’t imagine things. at times I misinterpret things, as everyone does, but I’ve never imagined events or people or space aliens or whatever. and if you find I misinterpret the words and actions of others more frequently than most people do, then the reason may lie in my autism, in asperger’s syndrome, and my great difficulty in grasping the indirect, tricky ways of other people’s minds.

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donna williams, an autistic woman who has written several books on living with autism, has these words about her view of the world as a child:

               the world seemed to be impatient, annoying, callous and unrelenting.

that’s how I also felt about the world as a child, and that is how I still feel.iIn fact, these feelings are stronger with every passing year. this quote is from her first book, Nobody Nowhere, and nobody nowhere is, vis á vis other people, what I’ve pretty much always been. I was someone to animals: someone lovable, someone of value (even if I am odd), someone they were always happy to see come into a room. it hasn’t been that way with human beings at all.

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and now March 2011, slightly more than a year since I started knitting all of my blogs together into a website. now things have changed yet again. I’ve changed my mind again about how I want to organize all this material. what can I tell you…. my life was destroyed, and that has changed me drastically, and for good. I’ve remained an internet writer much longer than I ever thought I would. I’ve remained this odd beast, an internet writer, whether I really want to be one or not. and I don’t, really. but I have no life — it was stolen. I have no animal family — they were hidden and killed. writing and organizing and doing images is a small anesthetic to the pain I live in daily. below is the most recent re-structuring.

the blogs that form the website:

 

                                       braonthree.wordpress.com  (you are here)
                                       braon
                                       braonwandering
                                       judah
                                       mishi  (asperger’s syndrome)
                                       sehnen
                                       mentalhell   (on blogspot)
                                       sehnen  (0n soulcast)
                                       small tales from rowley
 
two blogs of poetry only:
 
                                        shadowpoems
                                        scealta liatha   (fear not, poems are in english)
 
 
the books; ten little indians which may be turning into eleven:
 
 
                                        mugsy’s book  (a certain dog)
                                        lifelines       (autobio)
                                        don’t ask    (satire)
                                        spite and malice 
                                        all my stars   (animals)
                                        stolen stars   (stolen animals)
                                        neverending solitaire   (asperger’s)
                                        poison and snowflake trees  (turners falls)
                                        being toward death
                                        kaikenlainen    (a brother has died)
                                        lucked out     (a father dead a long time)
 
the eighteen-year-old novel:    the pygmies keep dancing
                               other novels:     dunvegan spell
                                                             she says
 
 
 
  
 
click here to new posts.
 

I belong to, and write in, a number of groups at experienceproject.com, under the name sehnen. follow on twitter: @ziidjian or @annegrace2.

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It’s going to take me approximately thirty-five years to write all the new pages that need doing for these books, and to move all of the existing pages from where they are now to their own new space. these projects are in part a way of living in the daily grief and loneliness and rage. and they are also, and this is the most important thing, a tribute to all the animals of my life, most especially the fourteen who were stolen, hidden, lied about, and killed.

I write bluntly and truthfully; sardonically and bitterly. the events since 2006 and the people who caused them are despicable to me. emotions are raw. I do not forgive these people, nor do I have any desires in that direction. if you seek positivity and airy new-age platitudes and happy endings — in other words, if you’re looking for the amerikan story —  then my website and my books are probably not where you should be. but if you love animals deeply; and if you believe that cruelty is not a fairy tale, but a true feature of some people’s personalities; and if you have any compassion for people whose lives have been laid waste by whatever forces, then maybe you can be a reader here. I appreciate sane, respectful comments. anyone is free to disagree with me on anything at all, in a civil and respectful way.

internet people seem to be hurry people. and information-hungry. and news-mad. none of that happens here, or will. this is slow here, this is about one person and many animals, none of whom are famous or important in the big, fast world. this is true life, true animals, true people, poems, pictures, satire, books. this is emotional. I haven’t yet found anything else like it on the internet, and I wish I could, because I would read it every day.

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The Scrapbook  Art I  ~~  Art II  ~~  Art III

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all photos, graphics, poems and text copyright 2010-2013 by anne nakis, unless otherwise stated. all rights reserved.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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