Black Rose Ramblings

I get weary of the same misconceptions about my deconversion from evangelical Christianity and fundamentalists' ideas about atheists. So, I am dividing this post into two parts. The first deals with misconceptions about my own deconversion from fundamentalist Christianity, and the second deals with some prevalent evangelical misconceptions about atheism. I think I speak for many other deconverted fundamentalists when I say I did NOT "choose" to become an atheist for any of the following reasons: 1. Someone in the Church "hurt" me or I saw people being "bad" Christians. No, no, no. Sure, I saw people being obnoxious all the time. Actually, in my experience, some fundamentalists have proven to be some of the most under-handed, back-biting snakes in the grass that I have encountered. However, they have absolutely nothing to do with my deconversion. Zip. Zilch. Nada. No, I just wrote it off as them "not being right with God" and went about my lif...

I was angry at the chihuahua this morning. I was out and about when I received a phone call from my ex: "You know Adora's eye medication?" "Yes." It costs me $25 a tube; I know it, all right. "Uh, Tiki ripped it to pieces." Great. Apparently, my ex walked out of the bathroom to find Tiki sitting among the remains of the metal ointment tubes, with an "oh shit" expression on her face. Agile little beast that she is, she had jumped on the coffee table to retrieve the plastic bag containing the medication. She obviously enjoyed herself, judging by the now-unrecognizable shredded containers. I was pissed. I was REALLY pissed. It was a new tube of the ridiculously expensive eye ointment, having only been used a couple times. It wasn't a mostly-empty tube, or even half-empty. And why the tubes?! They do not look, smell, or taste remotely like any kind of tasty dog treat. Then again, neither does cat poop, but the chihuahua considers it a prized ...

I once saw this quote in which someone was addressing a dog: "If there is no god for thee, there is no god for me." - Anonymous Whoever said this obviously understood the unconditional love of a dog for its guardian, and it sounds as if that love was most definitely reciprocated by this unknown person.

Blind hands sought familiar softness, Reaching for the loved one On the threshold. Tears rained from unseeing eyes As the hands ceaselessly stroked Brown and white fur. A tail still wagged feebly; Though the body was broken, The heart was not. Broken eyes. Broken body. Unbroken love. Fickle hope stood at that threshold, Tied by gossamer thread to the small patient Balanced between life and death. Blind hands clutched ‘til the last precious minute, Never ceasing their loving caress. Then - “It’s time to go" - And the tears flowed once more. Hope got lost that night, In a tiny body ravaged by evil, And the great, noble heart was stilled. Though fickle hope fled that night, She could not steal The joy, The love, The memories. Broken eyes. Broken body. Unbroken love.

In 100 years, no one will know my name. No one will know I swerve to avoid the wooly worms crawling across the road in the autumn. No one will know how, as a child, I would lay in bed and worry about my mother dying or being taken away from me. No one will know I consider my four-legged companions members of my family as important as the bipedal ones. No one will know that a single bar - or a single note - of music can wring every bit of sorrow or joy from me, or to which songs that capacity belongs. No one will know the battles that rage inside me, the sorrow, the heart that breaks daily, the world seen through my eyes, the confusion about which world is real, the despair and desperation that are frequent companions. The charred remains of my corporeal body will be all that is left. The essence of who we are dies with us, leaving nothing. People will walk by our tombstones the way we walk through ancient graveyards, gazing at stones whose etched words are worn away by wind, rain, and ...