Archive of ‘personal’ category

Look what I bought Bub! Look at it! Look!

I ordered Bub the ten-in-one Kingdom Hearts game that is coming out later this month because I found out that they were having a 70% off sale on… wait for it… a bundle that normally sells for $99, and with tax, I got it for just over $30. Friends, I call that one hell of a deal. I didn’t even have to think about that one. In my cart it went, and on our PlayStation 4 it went. Now, that drew attention to the almost chronic problem of us running out of hard drive space on our PlayStation 4, which I am attempting to rectify by way of having ordered an external hard drive to begin to store things on so that we do not have to play the “hard drive shuffle” that we have begun to play. I didn’t get an extremely large one, but I got one that suits our needs.

Meanwhile, switching my Medicaid HMO as a result of needing to keep all of my doctors in network (since one of them changed the hospital that he was affiliated to, which meant that one of the three Medicaid HMOs in my area was one that was… no longer in network with them) has caused me to need to switch the inhaled steroid that I have been on for maintenance to control my asthma to a new one, and this has not been fun. As the saying goes, “this has been widely regarded by the cosmos as a bad move,” or something to that effect. If I “fail” this medication, which I strongly suspect that I will, insurance will cover the medication that I was formerly on. It’s just a matter of getting to the point where my insurance will have seen me as “being on it long enough to have failed it”, will be satisfied with that, and will then let me switch back.

Since it is the Lenten season and all, to note…

Before I was coerced into those religious conversion classes that Bub’s paternal grandmother rushed me through filling out forms to sign up for (you know, the ones that she intentionally did not even give me the chance to read), Bub’s paternal grandmother told all of her friends at church that I was actually interested in converting to Catholicism. This was news to me, given that this had never actually come up in conversation with me and I had never actually been told that I was interested in it. You know, because I wasn’t. Not at all.

Apparently she had also spoken with the instructors of the class and let them know that I was also interested in converting to Catholicism, so it was… surprising, to say the least, when I showed up to the first, last, and only class that I actually participated in, did not even know the name of the class, had no idea why I was actually there, didn’t even know that the instructors of the class were not priests themselves (as, having been coerced into attending Masses with my son’s father for weeks up until that point and various church functions and get-togethers, and clearly not wanting to [although it might not have been clear enough to everyone, including him, because they had their heads in the sand and could not see that it was actually clear as day that I did not actually want to be there or want anything to do with any of this], I was ignoring as much as I could about everything that had to do with the Catholic church, to include who all of these people actually were), and at the end of the class, that I had actually been an atheist without interruption since I was three years old. So, by that point, we were going on decades of non-belief in anything supernatural. They were stunned. What I told them did not match up with the impression that Bub’s paternal grandmother had given them of me. And I suppose it was then that she was outed as having lied about at least one thing (“my interest in conversion”, “signing up for the classes of my own interest”).

And then she had to find out that yes, I was actually an atheist and that I had been one my entire life. She would not be getting what she wanted. She would not be able to convert me by force into her religion, and she would not be getting the Catholic wedding that she so desperately wanted to “wash away the sin” that was her grandson being born out of wedlock. Not only would I have been dropped from the class roster at the point in which inquirers would have had to interview with the class instructors or priest had I not been dropped from the roster at the end of the very first class (I was actually dropped from the class roster at the end of the first class, and I was disinvited from all subsequent church functions and get-togethers after this, even though I was civil in… letting everyone know that I was actually a long-term atheist), but his church would not have married us because of my long-term lack of belief, refusal to participate in anything that the church would have required my participation in, refusal to consent to our child’s baptism or participation in anything relating to the church (I believe that children should have a right to choose if or when they participate in anything religious and would have virulently fought his father on this), and the fact that I am diametrically opposed to everything that the Catholic church believes and teaches. This has only grown over the decade, although it can also be said that my opposition to theistic religion has also exponentially grown as I have continued to study them. Evangelists have tried to wear me down over the years with absolutely zero success, even “well-trained” ones who “have a high rate of success getting individuals to want to convert, and planting seeds”. I have actually caused them, well, ire, because my objections are enduring.

Some more thoughts relating to my last post.

In reference to my last post, I’m actually surprised (but in a good way, and I hope that things continue to hold like this) that as few people as there have been have… continued to reach out to me on social networking sites wanting to be my friend on them. In the year or two after graduation, there were the occasional trickle of people wanting to keep in touch with me, but that almost completely tapered off after I gave birth to my own son, and I will admit that a lot of that was by my own doing. Almost hilariously, Monster’s father attended the same schools as me for a lot of the time that we spent going to school together because, being six months younger than me and one grade lower than me, we spent a lot of time going to school together and happened to be on the periphery of each other’s social circles. But as I would later come to find out due to the severity of his mental illness, none of us authentically knew who he really was at all. After the court order was drawn up and finalized that denied him access to our child for… the reasons that had to be done to keep our child safe from harm at his own hand, he wanted absolutely nothing to do with anyone that had gone to school with any of us, and the only school that he “claimed” any allegiance to was the school that he attended during his senior year after some re-zoning had been done (one that I had never attended, having graduated one year before him), because it was one that very few people in our social circle attended, and it was his way of obtaining one of what would become many “fresh starts”. (This is a real big thing with him.)

Still, though, I am more than comfortable not being in any sort of contact with any of the people that I went to secondary school with at any point bar the one individual that I am friends with on Facebook, and I would like it to continue to remain that way. I think it was actually firmly solidified for me when I actually saw a picture circulating on Facebook from a class reunion that had been held for our class — if you can even call it that — where only one Caucasian student was invited, no Asian-American students appeared to be invited, no perceptibly mixed students were invited, maybe a third of the students present were of Hispanic origin and the rest were African-American. That stood out to me, and that still kind of stands out to me to this day.

All in all, I just don’t want to really have a relationship with any of them, let alone my graduating class.

I don’t really bear any ill will toward any of them — I’m in my thirties — but I don’t… want to befriend them.

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