The End Is The Beginning Is The End.

And now for something completely normal for me: constantly bumping the heart that is on my sleeve against the kitchen counter. It’s starting to smart a bit.

I write this post the eve of meeting up with my estranged husband to finally discuss our long overdue plans to divorce. It’ll be two years come July 12, and if I may be crude for a moment, it’s time to shit or get off the marriage pot.

What’s the hold up been?

Well, financial reasons have been a huge factor for both of us. It’s e’spensive to get divorced, yo. Second, plain ol’ forgetfulness for me, until the topic does manage to work itself into conversation and I go, “oh snap, I am still married, aren’t I?” Apathy, I know thy name well and have you on speed dial on my phone.

Why the sudden kick in the proverbial pants? Well, aside from my father asking every g.d. time I see him when I’m going to get divorced (second most annoying topic: “you’re taking your maiden name back, right?”), it’s the starting to date thing. I’ve had to awkwardly explain to a few very nice gentlemen that no only do I consider myself a geek, I like to write, and oh yeah, I’m still technically and legally married.


So, I sent J a very nice email last week stating we should probably meet up and get this issue resolved, to which he replied–and I’m not going to lie, this shocked me–“yeah, I’m finally financially comfortable enough to help take care of this.”

Jesus wept, where was this guy when we were married? Oh, that’s right; too busy with the damn video games. It’s all flooding back now.

Honestly, I’m pleasantly surprised by this from him and am jumping at the chance to get this taken care of.

However, I had a bit of a revelation of sorts: as much as this needs to happen, like, yesterday, it’s still making me sad.

Why sad?

Because this will be the final piece of the puzzle that is a failed marriage. This finalizes things. It feels like I’m losing him all over again and I did NOT deal with that well the first time around. I guess that’s why I’m kind of scared to go through with this: what if those old feelings of worthlessness and utter failure return to me? I’ve done well lately and I’m nervous this will set me back a few hundred steps.

Despite our marriage ending…and the considerable trash talking I do…I still care for the man. He was my life for 10 years. There is no switch to turn off to make you forget about someone, despite how desperately I’ve wished for said switch. He was a part of me for so long, and by finalizing this divorce, that part of me will go away, too. It’s intimidating and in all honesty, scary as fuck.

Please don’t misunderstand me: I’m in no way, shape or form hoping for a reconciliation. Not at all. I like the guy, but yeah. We’re split up for a reason. I do, however, want him still in my life. He may not be my husband anymore, but we’ve grown to become friends again, and it’s just going to be…odd to see him in that light now. He won’t be my husband anymore, just my friend, J. That’s surreal to me on a lot of crazy levels.

So, I’m working myself up into a great big tizzy over this and he even asked me, “is this going to be weird?” Uh…yeah, it is. It’s going to be all sorts of weird, but it’ll be okay. I think. I hope. I need a drink.

That’s all for now. I’ll probably write again tomorrow night after our encounter because I can tell my brain is going to all “yyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeoooooooowwwwwwwwwww!!!!!!!!!”

Until then,


Is Atheism A Religion?

Hello, and welcome again to my mind space.

I’ve seen this question asked a lot lately, and quite frankly, I started to write about the topic and then stopped  because my first reaction has changed.

First, I thought “how stupid. How can something that is against religion be a religion?” An arm can’t be a leg, no matter how hard it tries. That’s poor analogy, and I apologize, but get my drift?

Then, the ol’ grey matter started churning and I have changed my stance slightly.

Allow me to explain:

I still hold my first reaction true to an extent. Atheism is anti-religion. We don’t believe in anything, so how can something like that be considered a religion? Oh, that’s right–it really can’t.

But then, I have to remember I’m part of a group of fellow atheists that meet every few weeks and discuss our atheism, and due to the recent insurgence of the number of atheists growing worldwide, this practice is becoming more widespread. Groups of people meeting to discuss their belief systems? Hmm…

Atheism is becoming like a quasi-religion now, which is fine I guess, but it bothers me, much like the term “agnostic atheist” bothers me.

Don’t get me wrong–it’s super great knowing more people are returning to their atheistic roots. It warms my tiny heathen heart to be able to reach out and connect to fellow non-believers. Do I necessarily want to meet with them and discuss our non-beliefs? Not really. It’s a noble idea, and I’ve enjoyed the meetings I’ve gone to as it’s fascinating to me to find out people’s religious background and the reasons for them turning their backs on it, but that’s just me; I find joy in getting to know that aspect of people. Everyone has a story to tell, after all.

But I don’t really want to hold lengthy conversations about with people about why they think religion is naughty. I get it, guys. Organized religion is bunk.

In my opinion, a typical meeting should play out as such:

“Hey, I’m Erin. Do you believe in God?”

“Hi, Erin. No. Do you?”



“Yeah, cool.”

I realize I may be alone in this thought, but damn, dudes. Are there groups of people out their who don’t believe in dragons and faeries meeting up to discuss why there is no such thing as dragons and faeries? Well, given this day and age, I’d probably be surprised to find out there are such groups, but you get my drift? Are you mowing what I’m growing?

Now, I struggle with this a bit because I just do. I guess it all boils down to this: atheists are one of the most despised minority groups in the United States. I’m not kidding. The University of Minnesota conducted a study about how people feel about us vile creatures. Here’s some of the stats:

This group does not at all agree with my vision of American society…

      Atheist: 39.6%
      Muslims: 26.3%
      Homosexuals: 22.6%
      Hispanics: 20%
      Conservative Christians: 13.5%
      Recent Immigrants: 12.5%
                 Jews: 7.6%

I would disapprove if my child wanted to marry a member of this group….

      Atheist: 47.6%
      Muslim: 33.5%
      African-American 27.2%
      Asian-Americans: 18.5%
      Hispanics: 18.5%
      Jews: 11.8%
        Conservative Christians: 6.9%


          Whites: 2.3%

      Jesus wept, you guys. Really? As an atheist, this really shakes my juice, and not because we as a group are apparently seen as instruments of pure evil, but the general narrow-mindedness of people out there when it comes to any minority. Telegram to the world: Hi. It’s 2012. Not only should we be in flying cars and wearing self-fitting clothing a la “Back To The Future,” but this whole blatant racism thing has to be knocked the fuck off. Although, the findings of this study really make me want to become a gay recent Jewish immigrant atheist.

      I had a point in here somewhere, but I’ll be buggered if I haven’t lost it.

      Brass tacks: atheism is a diet religion; I don’t believe in God, that’s cool if you do/don’t; people are jerks still; I want to watch “Back To The Future.”

      Oh, and I’m becoming a gay Jew atheist.


      Pain Is Weakness Leaving Your Body

      …if that’s the case, I don’t have an ounce of weakness left in me.

      I hurt–and for once it isn’t emotionally! Bonus! Thanks crazy pills!

      No, I mean my physical self hurts. As previously mentioned, I weigh(ed) 257.6 pounds. As of today, I’ve killed 6 pounds, thanks to my rekindled desire to actually get up off my hieny and exercise. I say “killed” because lost implies I want to find it again. Anyway, the Beginners Luck program (very similar to the Couch 2 5k program out there) has attributed much to this loss, as well as me going to the gym and juicing these sweet pecs of mine. But I hurt. It’s hell carrying around 60 extra pounds. As a visual, imagine trying to cart 10 one gallon jugs of milk with you wherever you go. Not an easy task. My lower back and the knee I injured back when I was a kid are the biggest protestors when I run, as well as my diseased smoker’s lungs. I now know why so many Americans are fat–it’s so much easier to do nothing than to actually out forth any effort. The old me would agree. The old me would be sitting on my butt right now, working on my third beer as I relax after work, then grab some cheap and completely unhealthy “food” item and stuff my face while I watch television, only to pass out from a carbohydrate coma and then I’d wake up the next day and do it all over again.

      You know what I did after work today?

      I ran. I ran so far away.

      Okay, not too far, Flock of Seagulls. Today’s scheduled run/walk workout was to do 30 seconds of running and 30 seconds of jogging for 20 minutes. I did fifteen of those cycles before my body went “HEY. THIS IS GREAT AND SHIT, BUT TIME OUT, LADY.” Not bad for a kid who hasn’t done any sort of physical activity for two years, I think. Of course I want to do more and be able to complete all the cycles, but I’m just fucking jazzed I’m able to accomplish that much. I’ll get there eventually, and I need to remember to pace myself.

      Thanks for all the support I’ve gotten so far, you guys. It helps to have a cheering squad behind you.

      I leave you with a photo I took yesterday: the one on the left is me at the beginning of all this healthy junk, so about 3 weeks ago. The right is currently me. Subtle changes are happening and I look forward to more.


      The Girl Who Cried No Smoking


      Welp, it’s that time of month again; no, not that time…the time where I get all evangelical about smoking and try to renounce the wicked ways of nicotine. BE HEALED, SMOKER!!

      I started a beginning running program this past Wednesday, and for a chubber like me who hasn’t done a willful act of physical activity in two years, I thought I did pretty damn good. I wasn’t able to run as much as I wanted, but I was running, damn it. My diseased lungs prevented me from doing so, so of course, now I’m anti-smoking [takes drag of cigarette].

      I’m sure you’re all bored to tears by me saying I’m going to quit. Quite frankly, I’m tired of it, as well. But current and former smokers know where I’m coming from. Once you start, it’s painfully difficult to stop. Goddamn sweet, wonderful, delicious nic sticks…

      However, I’d like to try to quit for real this time. I don’t know if you know this, but running–hell, everyday life–requires a certain lung capacity that I just don’t have anymore. Running on Wednesday made me painfully, painfully aware of this fact.

      Oddly enough, running has also made smoking even more painful. I’m sitting outside this morning, trusty cup of joe and my last two cigs in my pack next to me. My lungs and chest protest with each drag: “STOP IT. PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THINGS GOOD, STOP IT.” And I’ll be damned if I’m finally taking the hint. Weird, right?

      [lights up second cigarette, coughs] I’m ridiculous.

      As you know, my last post was about getting healthier. As I mentioned before, I’m overweight and am currently in the process of trying to lose about 60 pounds. At last weigh in, I was down about 5 pounds, so yay for me! But because I’m smart and stuff, I know that in order to help me reach my goal weight of 200 pounds, I need to kick up my activity a notch, hence the running schtick. I actually used to run regularly about three years ago, thanks to the same program I started this week, but a broken foot and the rapid decline of my marriage got in the way of me continuing, so I stopped, and add emotional eating and a case of the fuckits also caused my steady decline into the tubby zone.

      I’ve started dating again and a date about three months ago made me realize that, and this still pisses me off, while my personality and general awesomeness are much desired, unfortunately, physical attraction also plays a large role in the dating ritual. The guy was nice enough, but I could feel his eyes judging me physique–or lack of one–and the first date was also the last and I haven’t heard from him since. I’m not saying because I’m overweight was the sole cause of this, because to be honest, I thought this guy was kind of a toolbox, but still. Maybe it’s my blazing lack of self-esteem and poor self-image are making me think the reason he didn’t like me was due to my weight, but I also know enough that our society has mind-fucked us all into thinking people should weigh x amount to be considered attractive. This is messed up for sure, but unfortunately, it’s how we roll this day and age.

      So, in order for me to feel better about myself, which as some may know, I generally perceive myself in a wholly negative light, I’m going to drop some poundage. Will this make me happy? To an extent, yes, but not because I’ll think I’ll be finally able to live up to societal standards, but I’ll be lying if I said that didn’t play some tiny role in that. I know, I know–people need to like me for who I am regardless of my waistline, and I wish I could share that mentality, but truth be told, it doesn’t work that way. But looking more appealing to the opposite sex isn’t my only motive or the main one: I am not getting any younger, as I turn 31 in a few weeks (twenty-days, to be exact), and I’m aware that as you get older, your metabolism goes “….aaaannnnddd fuck you, too.” It becomes harder to lose weight, which is also proof to me there is no god, but that’s a different subject for another time.

      Thus begins Operation Get Healthy. Eat better (sorry, beer; you’ve been a wonderful friend to me…), exercise more (and one and two and three and four and feel the burn and three and four…), and quit smoking (and I’ll miss you most of all, Marlboro Man…).

      Let’s do this shit! Let’s do it! After I finish this cigarette…