Repentance

Repentance
I Repented, that's why I'm a happy godless slut now.
Showing posts with label Geek. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Geek. Show all posts

Saturday, July 28, 2012

Fringe Culture, Anger, and Maturity: Or, It's Okay To Be Cool Now. No, really. You just need to get the fuck over it.


Ashley F. Miller has a great post that on one level is about “geek culture,” but is really about any fringe culture going through a process of growth into mainstream culture. It is truly insightful and you should go read it. What I want to touch on here, though, is something that she doesn’t quite come out and say in her post. She quotes at length a commenter on her blog, who basically says that if a person has not earned the right to be called a geek, has not had to fight through the high school experience of being bullied and shunned, then they should not be allowed in the ranks of geekdom. And he is bitter about that, and angry. The hurt he went through is palpable in his screed comment. This is understandable, since the self-identification as geek was and still is, for many people, a sort of psychological defense mechanism, the badge of honor, that one wears in a community of only a very few. Military Vets can be that way, too. Even among ourselves, there can be other subdivision. Like, if you didn’t serve in combat, then you aren’t really a vet. Alcoholics can be that way, too, in some weird way. “Look, son, I drank more in a week than you have in your entire life.” (I even have to wonder if, perhaps, all communities have something like this. Even the “popular” peoples. “Look, you don’t know what hard is until you’ve done two-a-days in 100 degree heat all fucking summer to be on the football team.”) So I think that this line of thought is perfectly natural and allows people to make it through some very difficult things and in that way forge a place for themselves, a belonging to a community.

Geek Culture can be very... thorough
But you can’t stay there in that mind set. It will implode in a messy cloud of dust and noise, and you will be left with a complete lack of identity; just a hole where the structure of identity that you struggled to build once stood. There’s another line of thought among alcoholics that I think may be applicable here. They say that during your drinking/using time, you basically stop developing, emotionally and mentally. I don’t necessarily buy that wholesale, but nonetheless, I do think that there is some truth to it. I also think that the sort of anger grasped onto by the commenter and so many other bullied and fringe social groups is just as poisonous and stunting as any drug or alcohol. When nurtured like that, it excludes and inhibits all other possibilities for growth and development.

This is not to say that anger is not a healthy emotion. The whole idea of “healthy” vs. “unhealthy” emotions is completely overrated, to begin with. Emotions just are. They happen for perfectly valid reasons. Anger is just anger. It is useful. It serves a purpose. It can even, on occasion, be intensely satisfying. But when clutched to the breast and petted and fed and nurtured, it turns into something vile. It turns into hate, and turns from something that you clutch for survival into something that seemingly takes on its own vile life and claws through your ribcage to take possession of you.

Ashley Miller closes her blog with some truly good advice:
Being a geek shouldn’t be about a persecution complex.  It shouldn’t be about being better than other people.  It shouldn’t be about bullying people who want to be your friend now because of what you think they may have been like in high school.  It should be about embracing people for being themselves and being grateful that they can be themselves when they are with you.
In order to do that, one has to mature as a person. The immature anger that allowed for survival in high school or whatever other environment, must be released; if it is not released, it takes over. And then that poor demon-possessed person is stuck there, in high school, never progressing beyond those juvenile emotions, that juvenile intellect. No matter how many other bits of knowledge they collect and cobble together, they will be stuck in that tar pit of misery.

So, in order to truly open up and enjoy the community of Others, we have to let go of all of the anger and hatred from all of the bullying in our past or present. That anger has served its purpose, it has outlived its usefulness, and it’s okay to let it go. And, really, if you can’t find shit to get angry about in a much more positive and useful way these days, then you just aren’t paying attention.

I want to grow. It is never too late to grow. I think I’ve been stuck long enough in a lot of my own tar pits and sand traps. I’ll do whatever it takes to get out of those, and scour all of that poison off till my skin glows and breathes the fresh air. And then I’ll keep walking out into the world. Let that world be wide, not narrow, and let it be populated by whoever is there, and let me, for once, dance with them instead of holding myself back and just watching. (More on that in some other post down the line. I know, I say that a lot. I mean it every time.)

Friday, March 30, 2012

In My Very Own Skin

I would love to be able to say that it was solely reason and calm analysis that drove my de-conversion process, but it wouldn’t be quite true; which is not to say that reason and analysis played no part whatsoever, because they did, they played a huge part. However, after reading (I think) one of Michael Shermer’s books, I, if I was going to be completely honest with myself, had to re-evaluate some of that intellectual history. I had to include and give proper weight to emotional history as well.

Looking back, I can, of course, find quite a few examples of times where I had doubt, times where I expressed doubt, times where I explored and grappled with doubt. Hell, I wrote a paper trying to tease out why in one version of the story of Kind David taking a census, it was God that told David to do it (2 Sam 24:1), and in the other, it was Satan that told him to do it (1 Chr. 21:1), I told priests in confession (I was Russian Orthodox, confession is an even bigger deal there than in Catholicism, I think) about DOUBTING IT ALL, I refused to get confirmed in the Episcopal Church as a teenager because the catechism instructor wouldn’t answer my questions, I read The Selfish Gene as a teenager. I had me some doubtings, is the point. But every time, I let faith trump doubt, I begged for more faith, the priests told me they saw my faith, I performed some impressive mental gymnastics and lived with the regularly recurring bouts of cognitive dissonance, I defended the fucking indefensible position of the sinfulness of homosexuality to my gay friend. I fucking well believed, I fucking well doubted. I did not engage my doubt. I pushed it aside and shoved it down, I trusted that it would all eventually become clear to me.

I went through a long period of time where I would (usually over beers or whiskey or both) be discussing religious things with a friend or friends and would insist that I was, in fact, very religious, I just wasn’t very good at it. (Yes, I was well and truly an alcoholic by then as well, I just wasn’t ready to deal with that yet, either, other than perhaps in one or two [drunken] diary entries.) So I guess that was a sort of transitional faith period for me. I tried to get back into the church, even, tried to re-become the Reader I had once been ordained to be (like, literally, ordained… by a Bishop and everything – I still have my Reader’s robe, and it’s fucking cool – makes me feel like Neo or something).

Then I met some people. More than that, I met the people that I knew were my people. And they were atheists. Every one of them. Or near enough. One was an igtheist at the time (and yes, I did have to look that one up). One is just an avowed hippy who doesn’t believe in a god, but doesn’t really give a shit about any of that – or no, just gives a shit way more about the people around her. These were the people that, in their own way, sort of deconverted me. They did not by preaching, per se, but by being open about who they were. Yes, we did talk about that stuff. With gusto, with joy, with passion. More than anything, really, they made it acceptable for me to begin to engage with my own doubt. Let me say that again, just in case: they made it okay. I did the thinking, the engaging, the reading, the research – in the end, all of that really is done with oneself; faith is an intensely personal thing, in some way (intensely social, too, but that’s a separate, if related, topic). But they made it ok to be me.

So after a while of doing some more reading and research, I did what I called, “Trying it on for size.” I couldn’t just jump off the bridge and free fall into atheism, so I tried it on for size for a little while, as if it were a t-shirt, to see how it fit. It fit. In fact, after a while, I realized that what I had actually done was take of a whole suit of ill-fitting clothes so that I could walk around naked comfortably, in my very own skin.

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Monday, March 26, 2012

Obligatory Introductories

So, I went back and forth on this labeling stuff for a long time, but a while ago, I decided that (for the moment, at any rate) I'm alright with it. I know there's the fear of being restricted by labels, but I think that I like them for quite the opposite reason; they give me a freedom. Mostly it's the freedom of not being alone. These words help to connect me to a larger group of people in some very real ways.

Now, the other confession/frustrating thing is that I don't believe I have ever laid out in a single place for any one group of people all of the self-identifications that I like. This sucks. This is the opposite of freedom. I hate hiding, I hate the implication that I am constantly acting, because I constantly feel as though I am and I struggle with that.

And so, I am... a papa. I am... an atheist. I am... a secular humanist. I am... a religionist in recovery. I am... an alcoholic in recovery. I am... a polyamory person (totally not in recovery). I am... a feminist. I am... a total bibliophile. I am... a geek (in a limited sense, technology not really being one of them)... or a nerd, depending.

And I will discuss and reference and otherwise sling about related words and things that grab my interest, excite me, piss me off, etc.

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