I’m realizing this will be far more than a 2 part story. I’ll just keep going.

There is a time and a place for everything, and it is called college. I left the rural Western New York town where I grew up and moved to Stony Brook, Long Island. It was a 500+ miles trip across my home state and I was quite scared. Most of my friends had stayed close to home and here I was, going to the only State University of New York (SUNY) with an astronomy major. There are only 4 universities in the SUNY system, so this was one of the big 4.

By the time my first week was done, I had several firsts crossed off my list:

• First Asians (Chinese, Thai and Cambodian) friends
• First Subcontentials met (Paki & Indian!)
• First Stereotypical Staten Islander (my room mate) friend
• First Jewish person met!
• First Muslim person met!
• First Buddhist person met!

It was amazing the sudden diversity that I was experiencing. I had never seen such a diverse place! In fact, I was still frightened to meet the African-American girls on our floor. That is how sheltered I had been. My town isn’t bad, it’s just, well, not very diverse. I once saw that our town had 700 African-Americans. Where? Where they hell were they? Oh, right! The county’s maximum security prison was in our town. Really. That is how white my town was (I am hoping it has changed).

I became very close friends with a friend from Upstate (Kingston) New York who was Hindi and her family had come from India. I met Salman, a fellow astronomy major, who was from Karachi and spoke both fluent English and Urdu. I was exposed to new cultures that forced me to try new things and I finally realized that the African-American girls on my floor were just people like me. We grew up in different areas and we all had different histories, but that was okay.

Part of my first 4 years at Stony Brook introduced me to other religions. I started to see if anything could move that spirit within. We had to take several core courses and for me, those were the boring humanity and English classes. One that I managed to find was the history of religions. THAT was an interesting class. From the Mesopotamian cultures to the Biblical times to the more recent evolution in Christianity, the class covered many religions. What bothered me most were the students who openly mocked the religions that weren’t theirs. The whole point of a religion is that you have faith in your spiritual leader, right? So, you have faith and believe you’re right, but so does everybody else. You all can’t be right. Someone has to be making a mistake here or all religions are equally acceptable. This realization that there may be more than one right God and religion made me stop and think.

I spent those first four years in Stony Brook thinking and growing up. At one point, I was invited by a friend to the kosher dining hall. Food was great, I got to hear about Judaism, and learned. I went to a Baptist meeting, and listened. I listened to Salman, I listened to Lata about her Hindu religion. I watched the stars a lot. I drove down to Orient Point, and Montauk when I had a car and sat that the ends of the forks thinking. I started to call myself agnostic. I was not willing to accept that there was a cosmic being who wanted everyone to worship him a certain way and all others would be sent to hell. I couldn’t reconcile that any one religion could be right with all of the wisdom I was learning from people around me. All of the things I was learning and experiencing were from people of different religions.

I have written before about my early depression. It really came to the foreground in college (too much thinking?). I questioned free will and God’s role in free will. The phrase “it’s God’s will” or “God always has a plan” had often bothered me. It lead me to a place where I felt out of control. Would there really be a point to life if God controls everything? Why try new things if I don’t have the will to control my own destiny? Eventually, I got to the point where I decided God can’t get involved in everyone’s life. It was the only way that I could retain some semblance of control over life.

My view of God became one of an old man on the beach. Sitting back, watching the waves roll in and out. To many things to handle. God just watches, downing a Barcardi Breezer, and not playing and invoking his will into people’s lives. And for a while, I took control of life. I started to break away from the current binds of religion and just let it be.
(Part three coming in a few days)

Yeah, so I opened a can a worms while I was in a frustrated state and a bit of religion came spewing out and I got several people upset. So, let’s go back and cover it and if y’all hate me afterwards, well, so be it (or should I say amen? since it’s the same thing)

This is turning out longer than I expected, so here is part one.

Religion: The background
I was born in a family with a Catholic and a Protestant. This was and in some places still is, unthinkable. My sister was Christened in a Catholic Church. Since her first name was not a saint’s name, the preist Christened her with her middle name. That totally pissed off my parents and Catholic was out. I was born in Buffalo, and when I was 3 or 4, we moved to the edge of the county (about 40 minutes away, it’s a long and skinny county). My parents had been going to a United Church of Christ. Then they found an Episcopal Church in my town. It was protestant (sort of) and Catholic(sort of). For those who are aware of the schism in the Episcopal Church, my town boasted one of the more conservative churches. The Episcopal Church was also one of the smaller churches in town. Buffalo and the surrounding areas contain a large group of Catholics and my town had the requisite Catholic Church and school.

My parents wanted me to have communion, so I had to study with one of the pastors. I had to serve as an acolyte, and I had to learn all about being one with Christ. The pastor was not terribly thrilled with me. I asked many questions. I was explained that God was loving and gave his only son to save us. I asked how this God could be so loving if He destroyed towns and called for the murder of other people. I was explained that God changed. I asked why an omnipotent God would need to undergo change? Why would a sacrifice be needed? Would He have seen this coming? The pastor often referred me to the book of Job and how Job never wavered in his faith of God. I think the pastor was ready to pull out his hair when I asked how a God could be loving if He was willing to torment a worshipper just to prove a point? I was finally allowed to have communion. I was expecting things to make a difference. I thought if I was “ready” to accept the blood and flesh of Christ, then I must feel something when I stepped to the altar. I tasted cheap red wine out of a communal cup and ate a flat white wafer that didn’t even taste like bread. The spirit within me was nonplussed.

Shortly after this time, my parents had a falling out with the Episcopal Church. Or perhaps the pastor finally rubbed them the wrong way. We had been having a series of interns under our pastor and, well, they were all jerks as far as I could tell. My mom convinced my dad to go back to the UCC in Buffalo, the Church SHE grew up with. So off to another form of Christianity. Now, remember that my town was full of Catholics. I often slept over at friends’ homes and was expected to attend church the next day. I got a fairly accurate view of Catholicism from those visits to St. Paul’s in our town.

I found the UCC was a better fit for our family. The wine was served out of small cups and the bread was actually little cubes of bread! This was more like I had imagined the bread of Christ to be like. I still had no spiritual experience within the Church. It was calm, and I could reflect on the past week. I often found the fact that we spent so much time reflecting on what we did wrong and very little on HOW to be better. The sermons were all about the goodness of Jesus and how we need to be better because we were all evil little sinners. Occasionally a story from the Old Testament would sneak in and I would remember the Book of Job and how God would play with his underlings.

Often, I would stare at the patterns on the glass windows and wonder if there really was a God. Why was this God so egotistical that He needed everyone to be perfect little beings? Why didn’t the God make people perfect in the first place. Sure, the whole garden of Eden and the snake, but that means God gave people the free will to disobey and perfection was purely unattainable. I once asked one of the pastors about this and he tried to assure me that God wasn’t trying to make people perfect. Then why do we need to sin and ask for forgiveness all of the time? If we were made in God’s image, why are our souls not perfect too? Why do our bodies fail before a full life? Why did God need a fallen angel to create the evil side of nature? Again, my lack of going with the party line lead to me being reminded of being obedient to God and to Jesus. That Jesus loves us and we need to be good for everlasting life.

This lead to a whole other quandary. Everlasting life? Really? Wouldn’t that be, well, dull? The books show pudgy baby cherubim and winged robed people, floating on clouds, all the same, all just as dull. Where is the pleasure in that? If all of our needs are met, if all of our days are the same paradise, would it be interesting? I had trouble with the whole everlasting life. Did this mean that souls are constantly formed out of nothingness and they go to heaven and never return to the circle of life? Of course, you could also suffer in the pains of hell, but what kind of system is THAT? Live a good life the way one book tells you and your will allow your soul to go to a place that looks down on the world and everyone is the dressed the same, or suffer for all eternity for not doing the right thing? And the best part of this system is it’s a guess! What if you happened to follow a different form of Christianity. They all couldn’t be right. There are minor differences in all and what is not allowed in one is totally cool in another. If I believed in the WRONG Christianity, I would STILL go to suffer for all eternity. I couldn’t even tell if that falls in Dante’s 1st circle of hell.

Around the time I was trying to really understand the nature of God and Jesus, I ran into a problem. I found Darwin’s theory of evolution to make sense. It was logical, it was studied, it did not invoke a magical person to step in a create something out of nothing. It was supported by many, many, many forms of evidence. I liked it. It was tangible. Cool! Something that is making sense! Except, I discovered that my peers did not agree. I was debating between the chocolate milk that I loved and the regular milk that was better for me when one girl (and I can’t remember who it was) said “I heard that you believe in that stupid evolution thing”. Surprised, I turned and said “yes, why not? It makes sense, it has evidence backing it up. It’s great!” She spat at me!(ick!). “You’re going to burn in hell for not believing in Jesus. I didn’t come from a monkey!” Well color me shocked! I was rather taken aback and surprised when a few other people announced similar things. Fortunately, my real friends didn’t care, but I was really upset by this.

I spent 7th grade soul searching and trying to understand where God, Jesus and the Church fell in my life. It was about this time I picked up “Are you there God, it’s me, Margaret” again. This time, I really could relate. I was just getting my period, I was getting older and I didn’t find religion to be reasonable in my life. I continued to try to understand religion, my place in it and life in general until college.

First, I’d like to say thank you for the comments on the last post and please forgive my quick and dirty comparison of religions. It was not meant to offend anyone, just my experiences.

Luna is my skater. She loves skating. ABSOLUTELY FRICKEN LOVES SKATING. She has passed the first 5 basic levels of the US Figure Skating Association. She is *almost* done with Basic 6 and she is half way through Basic 7-8. She has 2 coaches. They share teaching her, one is old school and tough and the other is warm and fuzzy. They both are great coaches and I am thrilled they are working with Luna.

My challenge is being the parent. To watch a 7 year old deal with the maturity that 10 year olds have trouble doing. She hasn’t finished Basic 6 for 2 skills that she is having trouble. These are important skills and she can DO them, but not to her Tuesday coach’s satisfaction. Luna thinks she needs to rush through the badges. I am trying to convince her not to rush, but to work on making her skills better. That’s hard for a 7 year old to comprehend.

I am trying to be calm and patient. She is frustrated with her Tuesday (the old school coach), but personally, we like the discipline that this coach brings. Luna will get to her place at her pace. I need to remind both of us that this isn’t a race. She forgets since her Friday coach lets her play with some of the jumps (she can do a Slochow, half flip, and is trying an Axel), but she needs to master the basics first.

The comment on my last post about Luna blowing off her coach was a misunderstanding. However, she is making her coach a card to remind herself how much her coach does for her.

Do you remember those long summer days when you spent all of your time outside? I would traipse through the woods with my friend Amy and we would come up with tons of things to do. We were pre-teens and having fun with life. The whole world was ahead of us and we knew what we would do when we grew up. I would become a world famous astronomer. She was going to be a marine biologist. We would be friends forever and live the good life.

I will admit that the summer days are not as long in New England as they were in Western New York. The woods have a very different feel here than where I grew up. I used to know what my life would be, but now that I am 40, I don’t know any more.

I never really knew what the life of a scientist meant. I never knew how hard this field could be. I never realized how slanted it is against women. I never realized that most men question their own abilities in the sciences too. I didn’t know that money to pay for the field comes from taxpayers who like the pretty pictures and amazing news articles. They like watching Brian Cox and Phil Plait and Neil DeGrasse Tyson, but they don’t like to spend money on science. Let’s do other things first.

As I approach mid-life (at least I am planning on living 90), I realize I am less sure of what I am going to do than I ever was. I am in the process of starting something new. I am trying to raise 2 strong girls, yet I read a story today that showed 100 women with and without their makeup and how “horrible” they looked. How do we accomplish all of these things?

I have mentioned on facebook, but not here, that I am preparing for a half-marathon. After all of my health issues in October, I am doing this. I am up to 7.2 miles. I need to get to 13.1 miles. That’s still pretty far. I know I might not complete the race, but I want to try. I am getting to a point where I understand that it is okay to fail. Really, truly, okay to fail. The fact that I can run for almost 2 hours straight is a huge statement.

What do I want to be when I grow up? I don’t know. I’ll let you know when I get there.

I have been so busy, I haven’t written much lately.
I went to the AAS meeting in Austin Texas and had a blast, but more importantly, I got the RBT off the ground. I had many people interested in it and I HOPE it does take off. I am annoyed because the website didn’t get up in time, but hopefully soon.

In other news, I am trying to come up with some topics to write about. My head is full and I want to write, but I never seem to have time. Maybe time is a good thing to write about.

Onward and upward!

Yes, that is a statement, not a question.
The end of the calendar year is difficult. Then we have the end of the school year. Then the start of the school year.

There is no end, nor beginning. We have created these crazy, artificial marks for reasons that are old and behind us all. Does it really matter that I am 40 today and 41 in April? Or that my children at 9.46 and 7.49 instead of 9.5 and 7.5? Time is such a strange concept.

I was once told that time was human perception and it was a way to prevent our brains from experiencing everything at once…

I think it is failing right now!

I am trying hard to get back to the posting on a regular basis thing. It’s hard.

After being all out of sorts last week, I am feeling better. I did 2 runs this weekend. One was a 2 mile run! Woot! I have these two wild and crazy friends who are running a half marathon at Disney in Feb. I am debating joining them. There’s a 5 K in town on Thanksgiving, so I am going to try that.

As for the health issue? WHO THE FUCK KNOWS? Even before the anaphylaxis, I was starting to breath better. Since being pumped full of steroids? Yeah, I’m fine. Go figure. I see a pulmonary specialist in December.

Unfortunately, my attempt to lose 10lbs in 10 weeks will fail since the first 3 weeks I was immediately covered under health issues. Crap. I will keep working on it!

Sigh…. Yeah, this isn’t the best post, but let me work back up to posting.

If you haven’t heard about the Penn State sexual abuse case yet, you either live in rural Connecticut where they are still trying to get power back or you are in a media free zone. Go Google it if you haven’t heard.

Now that we are all on the same page, I need to share my disgust. 

1. Dear Penn State: Why? Why did you not fire this guy back when the first allegation was made? Or at least stopped him from being with kids? You knew in 1998 that he was, at best, showering with boys on campus and at worst, having anal sex with boys on campus. What parts of this did you think would end by telling him to not shower with kids?
2. Dear Mike McQueary: Really? at 28 you didn’t have the balls to do the right thing? Instead of calling the police, you chose to cover your own ass and tell Joe Pa. You should have stepped into the showers and stopped him. Taken the kid to the hospital. Gotten him help. Yet you waited. Many other kids suffered because of this. I am sorry you have to live with this decision the rest of your life.
3. Jerry Sandusky: Go rot in jail. I don’t care if you are hetero or homo sexual. YOU DON’T BRING YOUR SEX TO KIDS! PERIOD! I hope you believe in a god so you can suffer the rest of your life for what you did to kids.
4. Dear Penn State Student who rioted: How can you really act this way over football? FOOTBALL? Kids have been destroyed. And you turn it into a riot over football? Get over yourselves. I feel like an old bitchy lady, but seriously, BUCK UP and understand what your lovely university has done.
5. NCCA: Wow. You will take away championships for teams where players sell their stuff, but when a true crime is committed you say "Not Football". Shame on you. Shame.

To be honest, the worst part of this entire scandal is that the culture of sports took over the moral and civil obligation to take care of those in our society who can’t take care of themselves. As long as there are people who think there was nothing done wrong on Joe Paterno’s part, we have failed. He should have done more. He has a son. What if it was his kid.?
Why is there a defense of "He only knew about one"? Isn’t one child rape enough?

This is the article every single Penn State student who rioted should read. And then they might understand why we are disgusted.