Don't you ever say I just walked away

Writer Benjamin Busch once said, "We've been pissed off by love for a long time, so we've got a lot of great words to describe what happens when it fails." Then, not two minutes later, he said, "Love sucks magically in just about every setting."

When I heard him say this, I was newly eighteen and in love with someone who I knew would never, in a million years, want me back. And as my poetry-choked journals of that year can attest, I heartily agreed with him.

But now? Now, I don't know if he was right. Well, he was right about love sucking in every possible setting. He was right on target about that. But I don't know if I have enough words, much less great words, to describe how I feel right now.

What no one tells you about breakups when you're young, when you're just starting out, is that there are three kinds. There are mutual ones, the kind where neither of you has to initiate it, it just happens. Then there's the kind where you get dumped. (Between the ages of fifteen and twenty, this happened to me twice. Neither time was particularly pleasant, but that was no surprise.) And then there's the kind where you have to break it off.

And maybe someone else will disagree. But I'd take the first two over the last one any day.

When you are dumped you may blame yourself (I know I did), but when you break up with someone, there is a certain kind of guilt that comes with it, especially when you know the other person still has feelings for you. You think, I am an awful person. I am selfish. I am breaking their heart just like [other person] did to me once. I should be ashamed of myself.

This is what I felt for days and days after my breakup. But I felt even worse when I realized, I wasn't. Ashamed of myself, I mean. I was hurt, I was vulnerable, I was scared. I was even a little bit angry. But I wasn't ashamed.

And then I realized, wait, what's that last one? That last feeling, hiding right there under all the other ones? Oh, that's anger! I'm angry, why am I angry? I broke up with her, not the other way around. If anyone has the right to be angry, it's her! And then I realized why I was angry with her, what caused me to break up with her in the first place [I won't list those reasons here - it's between me and her], and I felt better just because I understood something. It wasn't much, I still felt like the world had inverted itself, but I understood something about what had just happened.

Then I cried. A lot. Because I don't care how angry you are, when you were in love with someone, really in love with them, and you hear what was once "your song" on the radio, you are going to cry. Unless that person did something awful enough to deserve your hatred, like physically or emotionally abused you (and, for the record, she never did that, ever), you are going to feel all of that stuff well up inside you, and you won't remember broken promises or cancelled dates or all the sacrifices you made that went unnoticed. You are going to remember the time she held you when a zombie at Six Flags tried to scare you, or the way it felt the first time she kissed you, or the time she went out of her way to bring you soup when you were sick.

You will remember all of that, and you will cry. Hard.

And that is what no one tells you about the third kind of breakup: it hurts just as much to break up with someone as it does to be broken up with.

There will be people who don't understand this, as I learned the hard way. I'd go to certain friends for comfort, and hear "Well you did break up with her," as if this somehow negated my eligibility for sadness. As if the moment I said, "I don't think this is working for either of us," I gave up my right to feel the loss of the girl I thought would be my future wife.

And that's the bottom line for me, is that I did think we were going to end up married. I did think that I would never love anyone else. I was so, so, so sure, beyond sure, that we would never break up. I would never again feel lonely or unwanted. Except...wait. Weren't there times, even when I was with her, that I did feel lonely or unwanted? A missed call here, a cancelled date there, a "sorry honey, later" every now and then...okay, maybe it wasn't perfect, but for a year and a half I was a girlfriend. I was a fiancee. I wasn't "just" me, "just" Avery. I was part of something.

But, wait...

Why do I think that way? Why do I only "count" when my identity is wrapped up in someone else's? Why did I feel so happy on the good days, walking along, thinking about how cool it was to OMG HAVE A GIRLFRIEND? Even on bad days I'd think, "Well, at least you're not alone. Stop sulking, this is what you wanted. Maybe she isn't right here next to you right now. Maybe she's not perfect. But you wanted a mate and you have a mate. Stop complaining." I'd look at my Facebook relationship status - "In a relationship," "engaged" - and feel so much better about myself than I did when I was single.

I don't think that way anymore, though.

Okay, maybe I don't have people lining up at the door to "replace" the girl I just broke up with. (I won't get into rebound etiquette, but seriously, don't try to replace one person with another. People are not iPods. You cannot transfer emotional data from one to the other.) But that does not make me less of a person. You could argue, even, that I am more worthy of respect, because I recognized a situation that was unhealthy for both me and my partner and ended the bad situation before either of us got more hurt than we already were.

I still miss her. I still cry. But I don't beat myself up. I don't think "what was wrong with me that I couldn't make it work." I think about her. I think, to some extent, part of me will always love her. I'll certainly never forget her. But holding her to me when there were things I wanted that she couldn't deliver - that wasn't fair to her or to me. And I'd be a truly awful person if I'd let that continue just because I was afraid of what might happen if we ended our relationship. (I might be alone forever. She might hate me. Our friends might turn against me. Fill in the blank.)

And I don't think of myself as "just me" anymore. With or without a girlfriend, I still exist. That doesn't change because of my relationship status. I'm still a film geek, Whovian, blogger, Episcopalian, part-Irish, part-Scottish, part-Welsh (I swear I could not get whiter if I tried), ENFP, writer, pansexual, Loki fan, patriarchy-hater, awkward, weight-lifter, Just Dance enthusiast. I'm still a person. There is so much that I love about myself and so much that I want to change about myself. That does not change when I go from "in a relationship" to "single."

I am not "just a girlfriend."

I am not "just a fiancee."

I am not "just" anything.

I am me. And I will stay that way for a long time.

In the interest of fairness...

...I like studio films too.

Well, really. I'm not that much of a non-conformist. And out of fairness to the studio system, I have to make a long-overdue companion to my post about my ten favorite independent films.

I can't really scorn studio film, much as my inner hipster would like to. There are just too many wonderful directors--Chris Columbus, Christopher Nolan, Stanley Kubrick, Brenda Chapman, Tim Burton (yes, in my opinion, he does deserve to be on this list), Mark Waters, Pete Jackson, Joss Whedon, Andrew Stanton, Lee Unkrich, Pete Docter, and Henry Selick, to name a few--who work closely with studios and make great studio films. And you know what? I love them and respect them every bit as much as I love and respect the independent directors I spoke of in my indie-film post.

So just as I did a top ten favorite indie films, now I will do a top ten of my favorite studio films. Enjoy, and please, feel free to look any of these up on IMDb or YouTube, if you haven't seen them already. Also--it should go without saying that there may be spoilers, so if you haven't seen any of these films, consider yourself warned.

10. Mean Girls
(2004, dir. Mark Waters, made by SNL Studios and distributed by Paramount Pictures)
If anyone understands the pinnacle of teenage girlhood, it's Tina Fey. And if anyone knows how to make the terrors of high school utterly hilarious, it's--you guessed it--Tina Fey. And if anyone knows how to coax a great performance out of Lindsay Lohan, it's Mark Waters. To me, this film is proof that teen comedy does not have to be a triple-dose of trash in order to be accepted by its target audience. It's identifiable on a large scale--anyone who went to high school gets it--and that is by and large the reason for its success. Is some of the humor a little raunchy? Well, yes. Is some of it a total farce? Um, yes, obviously--but that's what makes it so funny. It's pure satire, and damn good satire at that. This is a movie about girls, written by a girl, that I can sit down and watch with my dad without feeling a hint of embarrassment. Because, guess what? He went to high school, too. In terms of relatability, I'd give Mean Girls 10/10.
Favorite scene: Cady's faux pas at the Halloween party. She dresses up like a zombie bride instead of wearing a little tutu/leotard costume like her fellow females. If you've seen my Halloween post, you already understand precisely why this scene resonated with me on a deeper level than any of the cliques-vs.-friendship messages in the Disneyfied ending.

9. The Avengers
(2012, dir. Joss Whedon, made by Marvel Studios and distributed by Walt Disney Pictures)
I adore The Avengers, and not just because it brings out my frequently-dormant masculine side like practically none of the other films I enjoy. (Watch this movie and DON'T get the urge to go kick a bad guy's ass. I dare you.) What I really love about it is how, unlike most superhero-oriented films, it spends so much time on character development and actually probes deeper questions about human nature and the intricacies of right and wrong. What really blows my mind is that this is one of the few superhero/action movies that truly can be enjoyed by both kids and adults; most of them it's one or the other. Dark Knight, for instance (which I'll cover in more depth later on) is breathtaking, but I can't think of too many kids who would enjoy that film; they'd either be terrified or bored. But Avengers bridges the gap. I loved it, my dad loved it, and I have it on good authority that there are plenty of little kids who loved it. Again, 10/10 for relatability.
Favorite Scene: The confrontation in Germany between Loki and the old man. Loki says, "In the end, you will always kneel." Only one man in the crowd, a very old man, has the courage to stand up and say, "Not to men like you." Loki arrogantly replies, "There are no men like me." To which the old man firmly replies, "There are always men like you." Maybe it's the Holocaust imagery in this scene (Germany; dictator; Captain America's later reference to Hitler). Maybe it's the message of courage and the implication that it only takes one person to make a difference. Maybe it's a mix of the two--I don't know. All I know is that I can't watch this scene without getting chills down my spine.

8. The Toy Story trilogy
(1995-2010, dirs. Lee Unkrich & Jon Lasseter, made by Pixar and distributed by Walt Disney Pictures)
I first fell in love with Woody and Buzz in my childhood bedroom, eating a peanut-butter-and-Lucky-Charms sandwich and watching the TV that was only in my room because my parents were re-doing our hardwood floors. Why do I remember these details? Because I'll never forget my first taste of computer animation. At the time I didn't quite grasp the magic, the beauty, the sheer genius of what I was seeing. (How could I; I was nine years old for crying out loud.) But now, after studying Pixar in-depth, I realize: these films are not only classics, they are gold mines. Treasure troves. Sheer perfection. I will share these films with my kids and grandkids without hesitation. Why? Because they are like the Harry Potter books. They grow with you. Like The Avengers, you can enjoy Toy Story regardless of your age. My parents appreciate the subtle (and not-so-subtle) humor just as much as I did as a kid. The stories are airtight. The casting is superb. And the animation...there's only one word for it: Stunning. 10/10 for story. 20/10 for visuals.
Favorite scene: Holy crud muffins, don't make me choose...though if you put a gun to my head and forced me, I think I'd have to say the scene in the first Toy Story when Buzz discovers that he can't fly. I don't know why this sequence resonates with me as much as it does, but every time I watch it, I get tears in my eyes. Few things move me like the sight of Buzz Lightyear lying on the landing, minus one arm, with that awful stunned look on his face--what do you mean I'm not a real Space Ranger? Actually, I take that back. The whole third act of Toy Story is just mind-blowing. This one I'm not spoiling. If you haven't seen it yet--see it for yourself.

7. The Dark Knight trilogy
(2008, dir. Chris Nolan, made by DC Comics/Legendary Pictures/Syncopy Films, distributed by Warner Brothers)
I love all three of these films so much it's hard to pick a favorite, but I think I'll have to go with Dark Knight. As much as I loved Batman Begins, I don't think any villain (including the anti-hero Alex DeLarge, whom I'll cover later) has given me the chills quite like the Joker. I'll never forget the night I saw this in theaters with my dad. It was right before my sophomore year of high school. I thought I was so cool because I wore a black corset and black jeans to see the movie, and tons of eyeliner (it was my rebel with a cause phase, sorry to report). Well, by the end of that movie, my face was streaked with eye makeup and I felt like a lost little girl again. Watching Heath Ledger play the Joker made me feel so vulnerable--but it was the good kind, the kind of emotion that only a truly well-produced movie can bring out. Like I said, I love the other two films to bits as well (watching Anne Hathaway's performance as Catwoman was one of the highlights of my film-going life), but The Dark Knight will always have a special place in my heart.
Favorite scene: The Joker gives a boat full of civilians and a boat full of prisoners a detonator each and tells both boats that they are rigged to explode, and he will blow up both if one boat doesn't blow up the other in exactly fifteen minutes. I won't spoil this--like Toy Story, it's just too good--but the entire sequence made my heart race--and the ending was well worth the adrenaline rush.

6. The Back to the Future trilogy
(1985-1990, dir. Robert Zemeckis, made by Amblin Entertainment, distributed by Universal)
This is sort of an independent film that eventually became a studio film through sheer determination...which, honestly, just makes me love it that much more. I blame this trilogy for getting me into Doctor Who, Star Wars, Star Trek, and pretty much every other sci-fi thing that I've ever loved, just because, well, it's time travel and it's a little bit of sci-fi with a hell of a lot of comedy and that was more than enough to get me hooked. This is one of those films that I've been watching ever since I can remember--no, really, I was probably five or six years old the first time I saw Doc Brown make his heroic slide from the clock tower so Marty could get back to 1985. Pretty much everything I knew about fifties culture AND eighties culture initially came for this film--so really, I can thank Back to the Future for my interest in history as well. It's another film that I love mainly for the nostalgia and the emotional connection that I have with it, but also because it's a clever, freaking HILARIOUS, well-cast, excellently-made film. It was a good concept with good execution, and as a scriptwriter I'm a huge sucker for a well-told story.
Favorite scene: My favorite scene in the entire trilogy is, hands-down, the lightning storm that sends Marty home. Doc's slide from the clock tower...Marty's desperate attempts to get the DeLorean started...the sense of urgency combined with pure comedy. I love it, I love absolutely everything about it.

5. Inception
(2010, dir. Chris Nolan, made by Syncopy Films/Legendary Pictures, distributed by Warner Brothers)
Chris Nolan is probably one of my all-tine favorite directors, because to me, he is living proof that it is DEFINITELY possible to have an action film with a real, honest, actual story. (Michael Bay, are you listening to this?) He loves to play around with the idea of psychological horror and internal struggles instead of relying on classic good vs. evil, and I can't even express how much I love him for doing that, because guess what? That's the same kind of stuff that Hitchcock did, and we all know how much I adore Hitchcock. What I love specifically about Inception is that not only do you feel a sense of real danger (quite a challenge considering the entire damn film takes place inside a literal dream world), but you also feel the sense of loss, of guilt, of pain that drags down protagonist Dom Cobb through the whole film. I cried with relief when he found Mal in limbo. And the ending...well, let's just say that I've always thought it's a happy one. (And it doesn't hurt that Nolan always stuffs his films chock-full of my favorite actors--in this one, we've got Leo DiCaprio with Ellen Page, Michael Caine, Cillian Murphy, and Joseph Gordon Levitt. Can you say "EPIC WIN?" Because I sure can...)
Favorite scene: Any scene with lots of interaction between Arthur (Levitt) and Eames (Tom Hardy). It's like old-school Hollywood comic duos (think Abbott and Costello) with a modern, Nolan-esque twist. They're there to provide comic relief...and a heaping dose of exposition. (Seriously, in this film, JGL is a one-man Greek chorus.)

4. The Lego Movie
(2014, dir. Phil Lord & Christopher Miller, made by [get ready, this is gonna stretch out] Village Roadshow Pictures/RatPac-Dune Entertainment/Lego System A/S/Vertigo Entertainment/Lin Pictures/Animal Logic/Warner Animation Group, distributed by Warner Brothers)
I LOVE movies that take me by surprise...and that's exactly what The Lego Movie did. I went in assuming it was going to be a 90-minute Lego commercial, and instead I was treated to a hilarious, tongue-in-cheek satirical stop-motion treat that not only managed to make me laugh every five minutes, but included a few live-action sequences that nearly brought me to tears. I won't spoil it for you if you haven't seen it, but suffice it to say that this is the first (and only) film in which I've ever taken Will Ferrell seriously. The underlying message about creativity rings true, but the film's real merit is in its blatant social commentary on consumerism...which, keep in mind, is coming from a $60 million film made by a toy empire and media conglomerate. I've never seen a film so blatantly make fun of its roots with such style. And trust me, I've seen a lot of big-budget movies that think they're "being original" by preaching a carefully-constructed message of non-conformity (delivered, of course, by conventionally attractive people).
Favorite scene: It's a toss-up between the Cloud Cuckoo Land sequence and the "man upstairs." (I repeat: I HAVE NEVER BEFORE TAKEN WILL FERRELL THIS SERIOUSLY.)

3. Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone
(2001, dir. Chris Columbus, made by 1942 Pictures/Heyday Films, distributed by Warner Brothers)
As a diehard Potterhead, I have to say this film is by far my favorite of the other Harry Potter films; the only one that compares is the other Columbus-directed Potter film, Chamber of Secrets. This film, to me, did such a great job of creating the "shock and awe" of Harry's entry into the wizarding world, and that is the entire point of the book Sorcerer's Stone. The casting is spot-on, the effects are done perfectly (not too overblown, but not too understated), and so much of the script was taken right from the book. It's not only the truest to the Harry Potter books, but it's also so true to the fans' image of Harry Potter: a perfect blend of innocence and maturity, with the perfect touches of hope, anger, determination and childlike wonder. In short, it's everything I love about the Harry Potter books--in movie form.
Favorite scene: Hard to say...but I think the scene where Harry first meets Hagrid is my favorite. It shows off Dan Radcliffe's acting range and, well, it's damn funny. (Dudley's tail? "Dursley, you great prune?" How do you not love it?)

2. Sleepy Hollow
(1999, dir. Tim Burton, made by Mandalay Pictures/American Zoetrope, distributed by Paramount)
Okay, yes, Tim Burton is the King of Cheese. And yes, I know I talk about this movie too much. But it's so good. It's Tim Burton's best work by far. The monochromatic colors, heightened by the splashes of red here and there. The casting--dear God, the casting. Miranda Richardson, Michael Gambon, Christina Ricci, Christopher Lee, Johnny Depp. CHRISTOPHER WALKEN!!!! If Christopher Walken doesn't crack you up and simultaneously scare the crap out of you as the Headless Horseman, I don't know who can. I love how he can be so expressive even without a HEAD FOR PETE'S SAKE. Only Walken could pull that off. And by the way? This is back in the day when Johnny Depp actually ACTED and didn't do his Jack Sparrow act 24/7. All in all a great film. Might take a couple of watches to understand the plot (it's rather Inception-like that way), but my compliments to the art director (who WON AN OSCAR for this film, JUST SO YOU KNOW) and casting director. (And the cinematographer...oh and the editor...and, yes, the director. Give Burton some credit; he obviously knew what he was doing on this film.)
Favorite scene: I love Magistrate Phillips' (Richard Griffiths) death scene...everything, from the way his head spins when the horseman cuts it off, to Ichabod Crane's reaction, is just PERFECT. It is without a doubt the funniest death scene, in the funniest (and most elegant) horror film I have ever seen.

1. A Clockwork Orange
(1971, dir. Stanley Kubrick, made and distributed by Warner Brothers)
I don't even know where to begin. I could write a blog post on this film alone (and believe me, I plan to). The first time I saw this film I just remember being overwhelmed, completely in awe. The sets, the lighting, the casting, the costumes, the acting, the script--there was not one element that didn't work. The tone of this film is so continuous, so flawless, that you can't help but feel something--even if it's strictly disgust--upon seeing this film, whether it's the first time or the tenth. To this day, I can't watch the Ludovico Treatment sequences without shuddering, or see the rape scene without crossing my legs. I have never cried watching this film--it didn't move me like Elephant or Boys Don't Cry, but it sure as hell knows how to make me uncomfortable. It knows how to make me think. And I love that. I really, really love that.
My gauge for a movie's believability has always been how involved I get in the story. If I forget I'm watching a narrative film, major points for the filmmakers. If I forget I'm in a theater and behave as if I'm actually with the characters...giant gold shiny trophy for the filmmakers. And when I first saw A Clockwork Orange, I did not--could not--shut my eyes during the Ludovico Treatment scenes. I feared for my life during the assault-and-rape scene at the start of the film. And when Alex's former friends torture him in the reservoir, I held my breath until Alex could breathe again. To me, this is a testament not only to Kubrick's power as a director, but the cast's power as actors. If you make me forget not only where and when, but who I am, you will forever earn your place in my heart as a filmmaker.
10/10 for believability. 10/10 for story. 10/10 for casting. 10/10 for existing.
Favorite Scene: Alex's discipline of Dim in the Korova Milk Bar. There's no blood. No knives drawn, no guns, no brawling. One quick hit and several lines, delivered with a quiet intensity far more fear-inducing than a shout. This scene happens just after we watch Alex beat not one, but two aging men, and rape a trusting woman. And yet that scene pales in comparison to this one, because in that one, you see that Alex is remorseless--but in this scene, you see that he is dangerous. You are not safe with him, whether you are his enemy or his friend. If I could give a scene the Oscar for Best Exposition, this scene would be it.


In the end...well, I just love movies. And to anyone who says "There's no soul in a studio film," I ORDER you to watch any of the films on this list, and then come back and tell me that again. You won't be able to, I guarantee that.

Dear Atheists

(from April 24, 2014)

Hey guys. It's just me. Don't worry, I'm not armed. I promise I won't quote scripture at you, or demand to know why you can't see how awesome my Savior is, or ask if you accepted Jesus Christ into your heart. I know that all of that is about as pointless as asking a zebra why it can't play the trombone. I'm not even going to tell you how much happier you'd be if you'd just come to church. Maybe you would be and maybe you wouldn't, but that's not my place and I don't know you well enough to make the call.

But what I will do is ask why you think you are so much better than me. So much smarter than me. Why you think that because you don't believe in God and I do, I am somehow an airhead and you are a philosopher and no matter what I say you will always think of me as a mindless sheep. I'm not even being sarcastic. I really want to know why.

In the moments after I left my film history final exam today, one of your number followed me. Waited with me while I called my mom. Then casually asked, "I have to ask, what's up with the time-turner?" A harmless enough question. I explained that it was a present from my mom and I'd worn it to give me confidence for the exam today. "Oh, a good-luck charm?" No, I don't believe in luck, I explained to him, I believe in prayer and hard work. Oh, what a poor choice of words. To say that the manure hit the air circulator would be an understatement.

For the next four minutes (I know, I was watching the clock) it was all "I can't believe you're one of them" and "Seriously why, you seemed so smart!" That was the kicker for me. I was smart, apparently, until I revealed myself to be a Christian. Then I was a dumbass. A useless, naive child. Just another "sheeple" that pinned all my hopes and dreams on a Big Invisible Man in the Sky.

Please understand, Atheists, I have no problem with you all as a whole. In fact I genuinely love that you exist, because to me, you are proof that my God gives us free will. You have morals, you have strong values, you have faith in yourself. You have all these things in buckets, which is something that, much to my annoyance, seems to confuse a number of my fellow Christians (I swear if I overhear the "but how can you have morals without God?!?" conversation one more time, I'll smack someone with a giant floppy fish). You are people who are truly unafraid to say "This is what I believe in and I don't care what you think of it."

I have no problem with people who don't believe in God. There was even a time that I was one of you--we won't get into that. But here's what I take issue with: people who think they have a right to tell me I can't believe because they don't.

Now I realize some of you have had run-ins with some of my brothers and sisters in Christ, some of whom, I will admit with a fully clear conscience, are as obnoxious as all get-out. And to you I apologize, because they seem to have missed the part about "do unto others." What other explanation could there be for someone shouting about how "godless heathens" indoctrinate children into atheism, and then attempting to force their religion down someone else's throat? My way of evangelizing is to simply let it come up in conversation. If you believe in God, cool. If you don't, but you're curious, feel free to ask any questions. If you don't and you're happy the way you are, conversation over. And if you just want to debate, please do, I love intellectual conversation. But I won't thump you with my Bible and if it makes you uncomfortable I'll never bring it up again.

But please, please, tell me why--no, really, I genuinely want to know--I am "the dumbest person alive" for believing in something that you don't think exists. And then if you still feel like talking, tell me how it's fair that you are allowed to tell me that all Christians are delusional, but I can't even say "I believe in God" without you tearing me to bits.

If this was a one-time thing I would let it go. But I see it so often, and it happens so often. Someone once asked me how I "caught" Christianity. Like it's the chicken pox. Like I can call in to school or work: Hello, sorry, can't come to class today, my Jesus Fever is running really high. That was mildly funny. Less funny was the guy I briefly dated who told me, every day, how evil my religion was. Before we broke it off, he once texted me, knowing I was anti-drug, that he was going to spend an evening alone smoking weed. Fed up with him I sarcastically replied, Have you accepted Jesus Christ as your lord and savior? You wouldn't believe the fight that ensued. Message received: he can make me squirm at his leisure, but as soon as I bring up religion, well, that's just over the line.

It gets worse. A close friend from high school once told me about an afternoon spent in church choir that was quite pleasant...right up until a teenage boy who lived down her street soaked her choir robes with a water balloon, then claimed that he'd "missed his real target." Later, he called and told her "I only aim at idiots...'course you believe an invisible zombie controls where you go when you die, so you count." He never got in trouble for this.

Another girl I know was kicked out of her gay-straight alliance when they found out she was also part of a Christian youth group. "No offense," she was told, "but we don't have a good history with Christians. You believe in the Bible and the Bible says gay people are going to hell, and we don't need that kind of negativity around here."

This isn't meant to be an "all atheists suck and all Christians are saints" post, by the way. I can tell hair-raising stories about crap my friends have done too. A person who won't be named was kicked out of an Intervarsity Christian Fellowship chapter that won't be specified, because they were blamed for "turning someone gay" after entering a same-sex relationship with another IV member. I read the news, I know the stupid, unfair, asinine things that people do in the name of religion. Believe me, every time the Westboro Baptist Church pops up in the news, I cringe and think Oh Lord Jesus, what have they done this time? I honestly want to throw up sometimes when I think of all the wars that have started over religion.

And that, to me, is the truly terrifying part about all of this. When I was a kid I had a theory that all wars started because one world leader threw a mudball at another and made them cry, and then the offended leader's friend threw a mudball at the one who threw the first mudball and then the next thing you know mudballs are flying and people are getting shot at and the countries are at war. I still don't think I'm too far off. I have seen friendships and relationships destroyed over something as simple as "Do you believe in God?" "Yeah, do you?" "WHAT YOU STUPID IDIOT THERE'S NO GOD YOU'RE DELUSIONAL." Or, conversely, "Do you believe in God?" "No, why?" "BECAUSE YOU CRAZY PERSON YOU'LL GO TO HELL IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE IN JESUS UGH I CAN'T BELIEVE I PUT UP WITH YOU YOU'RE SO SINFUL." Makes sense that would translate into International Relations as well. ("You don't believe in MY country's God, so we're gonna invade you!" "Oh yeah? well YOUR country doesn't have MY country's political system, so we're gonna INVADE YOU RIGHT BACK!")

Maybe it'll surprise you to hear that no, I don't think I'm better than you. My religion tells me that I still have a long way to go. My religion teaches me that every crime is equal and that if I roll my eyes at you, I'm just as bad as you are for calling me a name. And maybe it'll surprise you just as much to hear that no, I don't think God's job is to sit up there and solve all my problems. I think I have to do the work He wants me to do. I don't think that praying before a football game will make the team win, I think that only practice will make the team win...but it's what goes into that practice that matters. If a guy prays to God for strength before he goes out and runs a few plays, then that's what he needs to do to keep himself going. If the guy next to him chugs some gatorade and yells a few curse words to keep up his energy, well, that works too. That's just an example but you get the point.

And in case you don't: the point is that if my religion makes you that uncomfortable, why are you even bringing it up? If you see my cross or my t-shirt or my Bible, and you KNOW what they mean, why do you come and ask me if you don't want a conversation? That's like if I were to walk into a PETA meeting with a ham sandwich and ask everyone "C'mon, why are you so offended?"

I'm just asking for a chance, guys. I'm not telling you "if you don't believe in Jesus we can't be friends." I'm just sitting in the corner here, believing what I believe, and I promise, if you don't believe in it, I won't try to indoctrinate you.

All I ask is that you extend me the same courtesy.

P.S. Yes, I do know who Bill Nye is, and he is one of my childhood heroes.

P.P.S. Yes, I do believe in evolution and dinosaurs.

P.P.P.S. Yes, I'll gladly go to that Katy Perry concert with you. Just because I'm Christian doesn't mean I'm not allowed to have good taste in music. (But I'll still jam out to Newsboys. What can I say, I'm only human.)