Anti-religion and how I’m going to hell. Apparently.

So,  a lot of people ask me, in real life, what my religion is.  When I say that I am anti-religious, they go, so you are an atheist then, when actually I am not.  To be an non-theist atheist, is to BELIEVE that there is not a god, and that your beliefs are better than all others, etc. etc.  To be a theist atheist, is to BELIEVE that there is something, just not the run of the mill god(s/ess/esses), and that once again all other religions have it wrong.  Me, I don’t believe anything. I don’t think that the world should be concerned with all this existence of a god, or whether or not we’re right and everyone else is wrong.  That’s just wrong.  As far as I see it, people can believe whatever they want, I don’t care.  However, the moment they start shoving their faith on me, I get snotty.  It’s just the hypocrisy of believing in something, and I’m about to pick on Christianity because it’s easy, like for example the Bible, and then going out and eating red meat on whatever day of the week it says you can’t, or having sex with your S.O. with a condom, or sex outside of wedlock (A little off topic, but trust me I’m a firm believer in safe sex, no pun intended, so wrap it up).  You can’t just pick and choose.  That would be like picking up a math text and going, oh I’ll believe in the addition, but not subtraction.  There is no mid ground for math and there is none for religion.  It’s just not something you can do.  So if you want to believe in your religion, go right ahead, but at least if you are going to follow a religion, take it all, and keep it to yourself.  I don’t care how much Jesus loves you, or  if Zeus is going to smite me, I’m still not going to believe in your religion, so keep it on your own time, and that goes for you too atheists and agnostics.  You may not have a god, but you still have a religion,  whether you like it or not.  Anyways, that is enough ranting about religion, and my lack of it.  I should be off to bed now.

ATB,

Ron

This place feels like home

So. I am now a world experienced traveler.  Well, at least, I’ve visited a large city; that city would be Toronto of course.  I was there for about 10 days, to take in the pride festivities and have a nice little vacation.  I never knew that one place could hold so many hot men in so little clothing.  Everywhere I went, there seemed to be hot guys and girls handing out product dressed in little more than the most revealing of underwear.  Sex sells.  I definitely am a bigger fan of TD now at least.  I also received a card with the condoms that were being handed out by Trojan, and the name on the card read:  “Hugh Johnson, Condom Test.”  Yes, that is correct, it was one of those Magnum condoms and was it ever weirdly shaped.  It reminded me of a tampon the way it was shaped, all flared at one end and thinner towards the base.

Also, I attended an underwear fashion show, and it was the most gorgeous men wearing the most adorable underwear.  I even got some perfume made by Hugo Boss, called Element.  I love it, and it is now definitely part of my scent.  Another neat thing about Toronto is that there is now a fee for plastic bags.  All stores are forced to charge 5 cents per bag, and some can charge even more if they so please.  It was slightly annoying because I had to carry my fag bag everywhere to hold all my purchases, and had to make regular trips home to unload.  However, the obvious benefits to the environment and the streets of Toronto are obvious, because everyone is forced to use the reusable bags.

One of the more annoying points about my trip to Toronto was the strike, where all the city workers went on strike, leaving Toronto without street crews, garbage men, and no maintenance.  This was extremely annoying because the streets come the Sunday before I was due to leave were packed with litter, and all the garbage cans were overflowing, creating a stench on some of the streets.  Even now the strike continues, and Torontonians are paying for it.  It was to the point where even the TTC stairs were starting to get grimy because of the lack of above ground cleaning.

The Toronto Transit Commission, or the TTC as everyone calls it, is the conglomerate of the subways, buses, and street cars, all servicing the Toronto area.  It was such a rush, to be able to pay $32.25 and travel for a week on the amazing system.  I literally travelled over 800km during my stay on the TTC and look forward to when I live there and will be able to take it every day. It definitely is such a good system that I never even considered taking a car or taxi during my entire stay, as it was cheaper and faster to hop on the subway and head to Union or Museum, or even Bloor Station, and go explore.  I was able to experience the city the way everyone living in Toronto does each day, and enjoy every minute.

I will definitely post more on Toronto tomorrow, but right now I need some sleep!

ATB,

Ron

Test

This is a test of my new blog writer.  Hopefully it works!

 

Update!

It did obviously!

Part of your world

So, lately, I've been doing a lot of thinking, and a lot of thought about who I am, and I realized, I'm a really boring person. I go to school, if I feel like it, and then come home, watch some T.V. with either my niece or by myself, and then go to work. Once I'm done work I come home and go to bed. That said, on my days off, I sit around home, same with the days where I don't go to school. On the weekends, I spend them either working, or at moms house, wishing that I could be there for more than 24 hours so I have the time to do some cleaning. This, I mean, sure is good and fun, but I just feel so, I guess, lonely.
Last night, I decided that I would log onto the GYC. I know, it's a sketchy chat room, but I wanted to talk to someone and just not be so lonely. I mean, I have like 40 some odd friends, but I always feel like I just don't fit in. It's like, when you are building a puzzle, you have that one piece, that almost fits, but there is always another peice that just fits better in relation to the whole picture. I know, I know, but every peice has to fit somewheres in the puzzle, but I just feel like maybe, I don't even belong to that puzzle, that maybe I'm a whole different puzzle all on my own.
Back to the GYC now. I logged on and I realized that the crowd I used to chat with no longer existed, because I didn't recognize a single screenname. All the people that I used to know on their don't exist anymore. Now I know about 65% of the people I used to know on there were pedophiles, but still, it always felt like even if they were just talking to me to hit on me, at least they wanted to pay attention to me. And this all ties back into to how I feel like I'm so alone, because all the old friends I used to have, like Justin and Chelsey, and Britney, just don't seem to want to talk to me aside from saying hi in the hallways. Also, I never get invited places anymore. It just bothers me that I used to have such a social life, and was the bee's knees, and so many people wanted to hang out with me and chill and it's just like wham. Not anymore.
Some of this I do realize may be my own fault. When I started dating Andrew, my friends just stopped talking to me as much, and maybe it was because I wasn't making such an active effort on my half, and if it was then I feel like a douche because i hate how all the people I know have fallen away from me, and I imagine they must feel the same about not talking to me. I don't know. Maybe they don't even care. I guess, I made my bed and now I have to sleep in it. I wish I didn't however.
Now that Andrew and I are over, it seems like my life is almost four times as boring as it was. At least I could look forward to talking to him, and seeing him, but now on weekends, I sit at home, or at some meeting for some group where the people there don't even want to talk to me and then go to work where the people there talk to me only because there's no one else to talk to and I just feel like I don't belong in the world, if men are from mars and women are from venus, then I'm just stuck out here, chilling on pluto.
I guess that's enough of me whinging about how shitty my life is and blah blah blah, I mean my life may not be anyworse than a lot of peoples but I hate it. I get grades that I feel like I don't control because the teachers judge me because i don't want to attend their shit school, and I have no life, I work to get yelled at and stepped on, and I live in an apt where I sleep on the couch or on my bed in the living room only if the cat hasn't pissed on it, and I'm just tired of doing this day in day out, because i never accomplish anything. I just want to be important enough to somebody that they actually care if I haven't talked to them in two days, and will tell me it's alright. But they don't. So who cares?
Anyways, I'm off to bed I've got two more days of teachers yelling at me to attend before I get a break for a day or two.

Ron.

Three monthes and counting.

So Andrew, I told you to check out my blog and here is what I have for you.  I wrote you a poem that I thought you might like, and posted it here, so you would be all curious as to why I told you to check out my blog. So here goes.

Numbers.

They mean time 

They mean space

They fill your head

Make the world confusing

Until you break it down to two numbers

Two.

It means us

It means a couple

It tells us we match.

Makes us a pair of two people

Until you think of all those numbers.

One.

It means you

It means someone

It is solitary and alone

A person you can only love

Until the end of all those numbers.

Three.

It means more

It means months

It is a larger number

A number so big it owns you

Until it fills you with that number.

Four.

It means a third

It means the future

A number so far yet so close

Until May where it's a lucky number

I love you.

I hope you liked it.  Happy three months, I can't wait to see you tonight, you are the cutest boy I've ever know, and I hope you know that.

Love,

Ron.

The doctor.

So, I have been watching a lot of Dr. Who lately.  I know, I usually never write a post that relates to my titles, and the title usually shows how I'm feeling currently, but I thought that I should mix it up.  I just got back from helping a friend at her work, and I made a donair while I was there.  Also, I while I was there we brought up the topic of anti-humor.  Anti-humor is jokes that obviously are just reality.  For example:

A chicken started crossing the road. Upon crossing the leftbound lane, the chicken was promptly hit by a truck carrying eggs, how ironic.

Or they can be as simple as this:

What do you call a black man who flies a plane?

A pilot.

Obviously, I think they are hilarious, but I'm biased, so let me know what you think.

On an unrelated note, Andrew let me borrow his MacBook and Nikon D40 for the next four days.   The MacBook I've had since last Sunday, and the Nikon he lent me today.  It's a lovely camera, and I took a picture today of a heart I made for Andrew out of my scarves.  I love the camera, I plan to go take some photos tomorrow, and I'll post them up on photobucket and promptly write a post about it.  I'll get some shots of the plants and wildlife that there is on PEI at this time of year.  I'll especially make sure to take some photos of the willows.  I love his camera, it's such a beautiful device.  Google it and you'll see.  Well, I can't wait to get a bike to get to work, it will make the journey so much easier.  Right now, it's over 45 minutes to walk to work, and if I get a bike, it will cut it back to 20, or less.  I really hope I find a good on on Thursday.  I just don't know where I am going to put it, prolly inside the door to my apartment.  Anyways, I'll deal with that when I find a bike.  I should be off to bed soon, just as soon as I finish this episode of Dr. Who.

ATB,

Ron

Hugs, and things happy

Sarah, you are too silly and here is your post as requested.
______________________________________________________________________

So I have been watching this new show called Skins. Of course, it's British, and awesome. It's about the life of these kids in some town in England, and everything that goes on. There's a lot of cursing, and a lot of naked people. The odd thing is, this is like the British version of the OC. There's a boy who is in love with his teacher, a couple who is off and on faster than a light switch, the gay boy, a random constantly drugged up boy, and their friends. Tony and Michelle, the couple, are both stunningly gorgeous, and Tony, while constantly being a douche, can be nice. The gay boy, Max, is gorgeous, and in a lot of the episodes, you just want to give him a hug and tell him it will be alright, especially when Anwar, one of his friends, tells him it's not okay that he is gay, and he gets really depressed, and mopey, and I just want to give him a hug. I would go on about more, but I don't want to ruin it for anyone who may or may not feel inclined to watch it.
On an unrelated note, I wish I could draw. To be able to draw would be such a fantastic skill to have, and I would draw all the time if I could. Maybe drawing is just one of those things that you start out terrible, and just have to draw day in, day out, and eventually you get good at it. Maybe I should just start drawing, and one day, maybe, I'll be good at it. Who knows, being as art is quite objective, would it really make a difference if I was good at it?
Today was a great day. We had a snow day, and so Jaedyn and I made a cake. It's a lemon pound cake, and it tastes great, we both enjoyed it. Otherwise, I had a great day. I got to watch some telly, and to have a good long sleep.
ATB,
Ron

Sine, Cosine, Tangent.

So anyone who knows me, probably knows how badly i have mood swings. Much like a sine graph. You know, the ones that they make you draw on the graphing calculator, only more pointy, and random. So when I post, I try to keep it all level, and not too depressing and not too off the walls happy. I mean, sure, thats how I feel, but it would hurt my brain going through all these posts and seeing one thing, and then like the exact opposite, and be like arghhh. I know i get awful depressed sometimes, but I see it as being my own problem, and not something the world should have to put up with. This all goes back to my whole mantra, that I've been taught from day one, that is "What would other people think?". Seriously, I mean, if I started being Mr. Debbie Downer all day at school, and not my usual chipper self, a lot of people would be concerned(this is just me speculating), or at least I hope they would. And that is what keeps me going, because I was taught to be ashamed of anything wrong in your life, and if anybody asks, your life is nothing but spectacular, and this all ties into relativity. I mean, I live with my sister part time so I can attend a different school, and it's fun, and fantastic, but stressful. I have to pay rent, and recently have been unemployed, and that is no fun. I mean, you pretty much stress over anything, and it really does suck when two dollars is a large chunk of cash. Like, it's to the point where my catch phrase has gone from, that's unfortunate, to i'm too poor. And it just surprises me how much I've changed in the past year, how much I've gone from being as I see it, carefree, and able to spend that two dollars, to stressed to the max all the time and worried. Sure, I'm well aware that it was my choice to change schools, and I wouldn't give that up ever, but it just surprises me how much a little bit of responsability changes your entire life, in one foul swoop. That all said, I like my life. Sure it's hard, and most certainly, troublesome ( I can be rather mouthy), but it's fun. I experience things people would never see from any other angle. I know life skills, and for that, it makes it all worth it, because I'm worrying about these things now, and when I get to university, I'll be able to balance a check book, and to plan a budget, and to set up a savings fund, and to shop for food, and to make my own home, my home. And Sarah, if you still read my blog, I really did mean it when I said you deserve the world. A person as nice as you shouldn't ever be hurt.
ATB,
Ron

I won the game

So hey,
Everyone knows "the game". You know, the one where you loose if you think about it? Well that's how I feel about trying not to think about Blake. I mean, he was never mean to me till we broke up. Everyday he was super nice, super kind, and perfect. Till mid November, when he told me he wanted to be with other guys. And I was heartbroken. If I had of known that on that day, he was going to tell me that he didn't want to see me anymore, I would have done anything to keep him. I would have. And I feel guilty posting this, because when I restarted this blog, I promised myself, no more break up stories, no more ooh boo hoo poor me this boy left me, but Blake is just one person I wish I could hate, so it would at least replace the pain. I don't know how to deal with this, I mean I'm so used to being dropped, but never was I so desperate to have someone back, to have them here, beside me. I would give my left half of my body to be with Blake right now, but I know he doesn't feel the same. so I guess I wait till the pain goes away. It's been two months since that day in November. Two long, cold, hard months. And I never knew it could hurt this much, but even if I did know that Blake and I were going to end it so soon, even the night that we went on our first date, I would have still dated him. I would have still done it. And all I want is closure, and I don't know where I am going to find that. Maybe in becoming his friend, maybe in never talking to him again, maybe by moving to a different province or country. Maybe that is what it will take, because I walk down the streets here, and I remember all the times we spent together. I see a black or pale blue car, and hope it's him. I see the university, and think of him, of the day I went to go leave him a love letter in his car, a week before we broke up. I remember the plans we made, to go places, do things, see the world, and how they are never going to happen. It just makes me sad, to think of that could have been, and all that never will be. Today in class, our teacher asked us if we believe in fate, and I said I didn't. Sure, we get the illusion of fate, with cause and effect, but there are too many different choices one can make in a minute, or an hour, or a day, and that's just for one person. To have all people, making infinite choices every instant, would be impossible. It's too chaotic to be preordained. But I do believe in personal choices, and that is what makes cause and effect happen, which gives us an illusion that there is fate. Too believe that you are destined to do what ever you do, is ridiculous. I'm no more destined to be a doctor than I am to be a firefighter. And to believe that out there, there is this set of rules, a system, that says no matter what we do, we are enforcing their rules, is absurd. This causes one to believe that perhaps, this set of rules, that they see, running our lives, is not some cosmic force, it's human nature. By changing the present, we inhibit the future, but by resisting change, we are causing change to take place. And to follow fate, and believe that nothing we can do will change our lives, is to give up on living. Another theory, that i don't accept, is the multiple worlds theory. The same reason as fate, is that we are too random as humans, to have separate multiverses to spring off each time we make a choice. And if it does exist, that means there is a world out there, where Blake and I did live happily ever after, and to believe in one of those theories, disproves the other, which leads me to conclude that, this is the world we've got, we can change it, influence it, but there is no plan or other worlds that ordain our choices, it's us. So, to all you fatalists out there, take some pride in your decisions, and in YOUR lives, and let life have some mystery.
ATB,
Ron

Welcome to Boredom

Want to flame me on this one? Go for it. But don't tear apart my spelling. I wrote this at 5 am in the morning after 20 minutes of sleep. if you still feel the urge to say OMG ROFL LMAO l00k 4t h15 l4444m3 4$$ $p3ll1ng I am not going to respond for two reasons, one using "1337" is a horrible way to type a response, and two because even if I lack proper English grammar after 24 hours of not sleeping, have you ever thought that that just might be why? Just thought I'd let you know.



So here I am, 5:31 in the morning, and I got inspired. Me getting inspired is usually how one of my blog posts start out, in case you haven't noticed how I don't post that often, or regularly. So I started reading random blogs that have been coming through on my Stumbleupon account, being bored and all. And I stumbled upon one of the most interesting sites that I have ever seen. They call it post secret [link here http://www.postsecretcommunity.com/ ] , a website where you can write a short, secret on a post card and send it to them. Now me, I have a secret that I hate myself for so much, and I wouldn't share with the world, let alone with a boyfriend or someone close. This secret for years has terrified me, and if it ever came up in public, I would rather die than admit it's ever true. Then I scrolled down on their page, and I came across one of their postcards, that struck a chord with me. It goes "I only burned your poems because your mom called me gay...and I am" [here is that link http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_a7jkcMVp5Vg/SV_QTMmBp1I/AAAAAAAAHpM/mS01P0ffBD4/s1600-h/gay.jpg ]. Now while this isn't my big all time secret, it's one of my worst memories. I remember being closeted and terrified to death about people finding out, thinking I'm a freak, and I would like to say that, maybe in his life( I am going to assume it's a guy because a girl wouldn't be called gay for liking poetry) it's unacceptable to be gay, but I like to think of coming out of the closet as one of my best decisions. I have experienced life as I know it because of that one small choice I made that day to say, So what, I do like boys, is that a problem?, and my life is exponentially better. In my social circle, people want to be with me, because instead of being that person that was scared to speak up and talk, I am now self confidant, and happy. Well, not always happy (I do battle depression), but I like myself. I like who I am, and what that means. And I joke about it.
Call me a fag if you want, it doesn't bother me, because to me, it's not a slur, it's you pointing out exactly who I am. I'm gay, and it defines me as a person, contrary to popular belief on my mothers part (Rant on mother in later post to be certain), and I like that. Call me a fag/faggot, homo, fudge packer, queer, fairy, fruit, etc., I will turn around and just say, yup! thats who I am. I say this because in our world, we won't remove labels like fudge packer and faggot until it stops bothering people. I mean honestly, words only hurt if you let them be that way, and people won't stop calling you a faggot/fruitcake/whatever until it stops bothering the gay community. Why should queer bother me? I am gay, and I am outside conventional male sexuality, and queer is synonymous with weird. Doesn't that make me weird. But then again, who here on our lovely planet, can even begin to decide whats normal. Everyone is weird in my eyes, and that's not going to change anytime soon.
On a side note for the gay community. The reason why we get people calling us sluts and immoral, is because have you seen the slurs that our community, as a whole, propagates? I know in PEI, a close minded province, the moment anyone mentions transvestite, who pops to mind but Jeffree Star. Honestly, try it. Go ask any one of your friends who the first popular transvestite is and it's Jeffree Star that pops out of their lips. Now (and excuse my gender confusion if Jeffree Star has adopted the female personal pronouns) he is who he is, attention seeking and a drama queen. Just because you are outside the "norm" doesn't mean that you are hot shit. Honestly, I approve of transvestites, but it's like the lawyer jokes. It's 99% of transvestites that give the others bad names. I cannot think of a transvestite that I know of, save two or three, that don't go out of their way to be attention seeking and whiney. Who cares if you identify as a woman? That is your choice to make and I won't think less of you, but I won't make you special just because of it. I will hold you to the same rules everyone else gets. That means if you feel that you are truely supposed to be a girl, go to it. But if you are going to start shoving out bullshit about how you sleep with this many men, and they like you cause you have a penis, I'm not going to accept that, because if one of my genetically female friends started telling me that she's a whore, and everyone wants to be with her and she sleeps with a bunch of men, then she's gonna get the same whore label that you got. And I really don't care who wants to flame me on this one. Just because you are different doesn't mean society's rules cease to apply to you. So I will tell you that you are rude, obnoxious, a jerk, or mean, because you are. But I am deviating. What I mean to say, to the gay community, is that words only hurt when you give them meaning, and we allow ourselves to be labeled as sluts and promiscuous by supporting such stereotypical icons of "supposed" gay culture. All I want, is to marry a man I love, and to have a family, and to grow old together as our kids grow up. Is it so much to ask for? I mean, all I want is what every human wants. To be happy. And I'm working towards that by not letting the "anti-gay" slurs affect me, and by not supporting the icons that only add fuel to the anti-gay fire. That's where stereotypes come from, the most uniform part of a large group of people. It's like saying all teenagers drink or all emos cut themselves. It's not true, but until there's a shift in the vast majority, people are going to keep assigning stereotypes to people who don't deserve them, and it just makes me mad when people call me a slut, just because I'm gay.