Hi, I'm an atheist.

I used to be a Christian. Well, in the sense that I used to go to Church because my best friend at the time did. I'm not sure I ever properly believed in God. I used to like getting the sweets at Christmas, which is a very bad reason for going to church.

I moved on to agnosticism - believing that we will never know with the evidence we have whether God exists or not. I don't mean to offend anyone, but I feel that this is the easy way out. The evidence that you have is in front of you, and it is up to you to interpret it as being evidence for the existence of God or for the non-existence of God (the main example here is the fossils debate - they can be said to be proof that the world is older than it should be according to the Bible or something else God created to test our faith). To sit on the fence in the form of agnosticism is not something I feel is worthwhile. If you 'don't know' then you are not living your life to any sort of certainty, and making the decision which view you subscribe to is a gutsy thing to do, but it solves this problem and gives you something to stand up for.

I then dabbled with the idea of Buddhism as a religion. But this again does not really address the 'God question'. It is more about adapting your way of life to make yourself a better person and achieve Nirvana rather than reincarnation upon death (but I'm not doing your Religious Education homework for you, Google it!).

But then I moved on to atheism. If you Google 'define atheism' you get: The theory or belief that God does not exist.

Christians will always try to preach their religion to you, because it is in their religion to do so, but I think of myself as a quiet atheist. I don't try and convince other people that my viewpoint is right and theirs is wrong, unless they first say that I am wrong. But after reading one to many threads on a forum about atheists being evil because they have no God to give them a moral system or trying to give 'absolute proof' of the existence of God, when all they are doing is adding to the poorly argued case of Christianity (which is not to say that all Christian arguments are poor, just the ones that I seem to end up in), I decided I would explain why I subscribe to such a viewpoint.

There are a lot of points I could go into about the circular nature of arguments in Christianity and the 'Does it really matter if I believe in God because (s)he is good and will forgive me?' premise; but I'm not going into that here. (However, if you would like to buy me a drink and have a good chat about it, I am open to that).

Basically, I do not need God to explain the world (I am not trying to plagiarise Alex Day here, but a lot of my idea is based on and extrapolated from his video, just click his name). If you think of a God as a designer then it makes everything that surrounds us much less impressive. Darwin's Theory of Evolution states that all living things in the world right now are a product of natural selection - they were the most suited to their environment and so they were able to pass on their genes and so those genes survived while less suitable ones died out. A butterfly with a brightly coloured pattern on it's back that looks like eyes is so because that helps to fend off predators (because they think it can see them or think the colours may mean it is poisonous) and not because God thought it would be nice to look at. Human beings evolved and now build skyscrapers and invented the internet not because we were created in God's image before being cast out of the Garden of Eden, but because those who had the extra brain power to make tools and use them to build houses for protection could pass on their genes and those who caught diseases and died from sitting out in the rain doing nothing could not.

If God is responsible for all of this, then everything that humans have achieved is nothing that we can be proud of. If a cure for cancer was found tomorrow, it would be hailed a 'miracle' and God would get credit from some people who believe that we are able to do everything that we do as a species only because of what God did in the beginning and what he does to look over us. If God is responsible for 'miracles' (although this largely depends on your definition of a miracle) then what is the claim to fame for the human race? If we evolved from single celled organisms over millions of years and formed these intelligent creatures that are able to manipulate our surroundings instead of our surroundings manipulating us, then that is something that we - as a species - should take pride in. If God created us as we are, then this pride has no place.

In the end it all boils down to your way of life. If believing in God is what gets you out of bed in the morning then I am not going to try and destroy that belief in you - because it is obviously doing you a lot of good. I just don't get the same effect, because if I believe in the omnipotent God that is looking after me, I feel depressed about the state of our species. We are just as God made us; and God did not make us perfect (just read Genesis). We have hardly advanced from the Garden of Eden standpoint if you compare that to the progress that we have made - how far we have come - in order to be the intelligent beings that we are through evolution.

My view of the world is one where God has no place, where we have made our own present and we have control over our own future. If a cure for cancer is found that is because of the evolution of intelligence leading to the invention of equipment to develop better drugs, and should not be hailed as a 'miracle'.

I do not need religion to feel good, I do not need religion to explain the world, and that is why I am an atheist.

Hometown Monologue.

Backstory: I decided to walk home from ASDA today, and took a route past my old high school, at which point ideas for a blogpost flooded my mind, and I had no way of recording them down other than to record it as a monologue on my phone. I didn't intend to speak as much as I did, especially as I was just outside and knew people could be listening, but this is what I came up with (with ums, ahhs, and corrections edited out).
Warning: This will likely be repetitive and jump from idea to idea with no logic and will be laid out weirdly. But it will be raw and honest.
(Points in parentheses added for clarification)

I walk for the exercise.
Normally I'll walk through the shopping centre, but I didn't think it through when I decided to walk home at half past 6. So, the shopping centre was closed.
I could choose one of many routes, all of which involve stairs which I'm not a massive fan of with the problems I have with my knees. So I decided to take the route, although in reverse, I travelled so many times during the 5 years I spent in the place in my hometown that raises the most anxiety in my life, my high school.
I walked over the river, which was more beautiful than I remember it, and steering clear of the grounds (I mean the path running along the front of the school, the gates were obviously locked), which I hadn't set foot in in just over three years, I walked round and noticed the signs that were on the front of the school - their GCSE success, as if! The most successful year they had was about 3 years ago, when I left! They didn't even meet the national targets this year, which doesn't surpise me at all! Well, they did sack the old head teacher, so with a bit of luck they'll improve again but I wouldn't recommend anyone send their child there anyway, the place is... well it's a very very rubbish place.

I'm walking down a broken path, and over a bridge to where for the first 2 years, my dad used to pick me up - because apparently that was easier so he didn't have to venture into town centre, which if you've ever been on a school run you'll know that's true. You can see the bus stop that I got a bus from for about 3 months, before me and my best friend at the time decided that it would be easier to go through the Concourse - the shopping centre I mentioned before that I couldn't walk through - then we'd be guaranteed a seat and the bus wouldn't drive past us like it often did when it was already full of students that had got on at the Concourse.

I don't remember this bridge taking me as long when I had shorter legs and wasn't as fit. I used to hate PE; but what nerd doesn't hate PE, let's be honest.

The aren't any students around at the minute, it's half past 6 on a Friday. Normally they'll hang around till about half 4-5, considering they finish at quarter past 3. Quite long time. I used to walk straight the shopping centre with my friend at the time - Jade, whose mum I saw in the ASDA, so that was weird. I'm glad she wasn't there. Would be quite annoying really, considering I have no make-up on right now.

I can see the (low and flat) bollard I used to sit on and wait when my dad was late, hope that nobody I didn't like would try and speak to me. Sat here once when I walked in new shoes and couldn't walk the rest of the way to get the bus (back home, due to blisters).

Double deckers, that's a thing we never had, thank God. There'd have been fights on the top deck with no driver to watch out. Happens now, I've seen it.

I always sit on the bottom now. Again, knees! Or at least that's my excuse.

I'm back towards the route I'd normally take walking home, and I've only wasted what, 10 minutes going a different way? Never mind.

At the very least I managed to snap a couple of pictures by the river before, before the chavs walked down the steps - ha, STEPS - that I had to walk up. I don't know if you know, but the north west of England was caught in the tail-end of a hurricane recently and one of the trees appears to have snapped in half; half if it is still standing and the other half of it is half falling over. I'll upload the picture if I can.

I got the river, managed not to get any of the litter, which is not something you can usually do.

It's weird. I used to get panic attacks - I still get them sometimes when I'm out shopping and I see people that I'm not a fan of - but like I said, it's now quarter to 7 on a Friday and I'm walking across the bridge over the dual carriageway towards a friend's house without a care in the world. It helps to know that in two weeks time - two weeks tomorrow to be exact - I'm going to be packing up my dads bus and going back to the place I call home.

A lot of people say they have uni and home, well I have home and I have where my parents live. Home is Lancaster. And the first time I called it home, when I was staying at my parents' house my mum almost started to cry, but held it back and later on said: when you called Lancaster home before, it both broke my heart and made me happy at the same time. You don't consider us home anymore but I know that's because of your relationship with this town. But I'm happy that you're happy where you are.

(If you read Facebook or Twitter you were probably expecting more. I cut it, I hate pretty much all of what I said and how I said it. But you'll still get the general gist of the rest in a future post).

Thoughts From Places: Primary Nostalgia Overload

My old Primary School is a 5 minute walk away from house (the same house I lived in when I was there). I took a stroll up the other day; while I was just out walking; and I was struck by how much the place had changed.

Just before we left, they have life sized wooden cut-outs of us done. We then got to paint ourselves and the 'Class of 2003' were mailed in a semi-circle on the wall in the undercover area. Mine looked ridiculous - in fact most of them looked ridiculous - but it was a way of knowing that we wouldn't be forgotten.

Recently (how recently I don't know; but I imagine in the last 5 years as I don't remember it happening when my brother was there) the undercover area was filled into to make another classroom. The wooden semi-circle was move to the main entrance of the school - which I guess means they were even more happy about having them. When my old year 6 teacher retired, they were still there. When I came back to help out, they were still there.

I walked up and went around the outside of the field, still completely unable to accept the view from the junior playground - lacking the undercover area that I spend the best part of 3 years of my life playing under in the great British weather composed almost entirely of rainy days.

I walked past the infant playground which looked (remarkably) like it always used to - back when I was a buddy to the cute blonde I mentioned back in BEDA: 4, even further back when I got in trouble for poking a girl in the eye in self-defence when she had jumped on my back and pulled my hair; even further still when I still thought hopscotch was fun before I fell and took the skin off my knees.

I dashed past the new bike racks and the sensory garden that replaced the area I ran through and into the road on my first day to the main entrance to admire my (somewhat embarrassing) handiwork through the new green fences.

Well, they were gone! I was heartbroken. I'm not entirely sure why some 8 year old piece of wood covered in (probably chipped) paint that doesn't even accurately represent me - even then, never mind now - meant so much, but I did feel slightly teary at the thought of all memory of the class of 2003 being eradicated in this new age where class sizes are so big I'm surprised they fit in the classrooms.

Hundreds of children have gone through that school in the 8 year period since I left; but I got all level 5s in my SATS, I played Blousey Brown, I always sang a solo and made my mum cry. I'm not even sure any of the teachers I had are still there - two retired, three moved on and I think one of them died. Knowing that your memory is gone from a place in 8 years makes me feel awfully old, even though I'm only 19. A part of me is tempted to Google the term dates and go and see if they need any help in the time between the new term starting and my going back to uni - but a bigger part of me is telling me to let it lie, and build a bigger legacy elsewhere.

I have the newspaper clippings to prove that it'll take an awfully long time for me to be forgotten in my high school - although its not something I want to be remembered for, or even remember myself. I get this feeling that I've left footprints of incredibly varying depths and I find this a little unsettling. The footprints in the mud have been rained over at primary school, the squashed snow at college melted almost as soon as I left and the indentations from my walk through high school and have been unwillingly cast into cement as an unhappy accessory. I guess I have to try and control how heavy my footfalls are in future - to be preserved where I want them to be, and washed over by the new generation where I don't want them to remain.

I do wonder what happened to those wooden cut-outs of us though.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 7 - A Song You Hate

Whip My Hair - Willow Smith

Lancaster Uni Freshers' Week Guide (From the Perspective of Someone Who Didn't Drink in Freshers' Week)

Note: This guide can also be used for other universities, but some of the more Lancaster specific points may not be completely relevant.

1. Your college is important (but only this week)

Buy the t-shirt, learn the chants (ask your reps), drink exclusively in your own bar. If you're on campus then your flatmates will be in your college; and they'll be the people you spend the most time throughout the week and your freshers' reps will help to instil a sense of family from your college.

After freshers' you'll go into normal uni life and meet people on your course and in societies, at which point the only time your college will matter is if you play inter-college sports. I am in Fylde and some of my best friends are in Lonsdale, Furness and County. The only time the college difference matters is when we beat them at pool, when a bit of casual banter is thrown around.

2. Ask questions

You'll have a tutor and two freshers' reps; they're there to help you. I didn't know which bus to get to the train station and my rep not only told me which bus and where from, but she also found me a timetable. When I had to change my minor, my personal tutor (who didn't actually know how the procedure worked herself) rang around to find out for me while I was feeling emotional and had no idea where to start.

Freshers' reps are largely there to get you drunk (ahem, I mean make sure you aren't too drunk to get home safe), but they will also answer your questions - they were once nervous freshers with millions of questions they felt stupid for having to ask, so they completely understand where you are coming from.

3. Play sports/join societies

The Freshers' Fayre will usually be Thursday/Friday of freshers' week, and you'll probably be overwhelmed by how many things people have been bothered to make societies for. Join anything you are remotely interested in or think you could be interested in. But, make sure you take account of the cost - some are free, some have joining fees, some require you to buy equipment; but if its something you are going to enjoy and make friends doing then it has to be worth it.

I didn't do this. I signed up for the writers' society and never went. I only joined the pool team by accident, but my captain is now the best friend I have met at uni, and a lot of the other girls are totally awesome!

4. Don't feel pressured to drink a lot and go out every night.

I'm disabled and when my knee started to hurt, I went home and chilled with a hot water bottle. Your freshers' reps will encourage you to get drunk and enjoy yourself, your party animal flatmates may think you're a little weird if you don't wanna go out; but it's your life, your freshers' week and your uni experience - do whatever you like.

I even left my Big Night Out (sampling a lot of the local nightlife under the watchful eyes of your reps) early, and my female rep - who had been encouraging the rest of the group to drink as much as possible without being sick - walked me to the bus station and made me promise to text her when I got back before she would let me on the bus.

5. Speaking of the Big Night Out, wear sensible shoes!

I wore flats. My two female flatmates wore heels. Guess which of the three of us wasn't moaning about her feet our third bar?

Lancaster is quite spread out. I used to go out with Wigan, where pretty much all of the clubs are along the same street. You get bored of one club, you just pop next door; it's easy and not too bad for high heels. But Lancaster isn't anything like this. With the exception of Sugarhouse, Toast and Elements all being along the same road, you don't get clubs that are all that close together. So wear flats for the sake of your feet and the ears of your flatmates.

Quickfire advice:

6. Don't take clothes you don't think you'll wear because you'll spend forever unpacking! But do weigh everything up for its fancy dress value.

7. If you can, get the top shelf of the fridge so other people's food doesn't leak and drip onto yours - particularly if you're a vegetarian or have allergies.

8. Bring a doorstop so your new flatmates can say hi while you unpack.

9. Establish football/rugby/other sport alliances and rivalries early - makes for good banter in the bar or your kitchen while watching a match/game/race.

10. Have fun, don't be scared, and just be yourself. If people hate you for it, that's their issue.

In case you haven't noticed...

I failed at BEDA.

Please don't judge me for it.

I was planning to catch up, but there is little to no chance of that happening now.

Coming soon:

Lancaster Uni (or any uni really) Freshers' Guide - From the Viewpoint of Someone Who Didn't Drink During Her Freshers' Week.

The second half of my coming out story.

A few high school stories.

Video game nostalgia.

I will also be continuing with this:

30 Day Song Challenge Day 6 - A Song By Someone You'd Like To Marry.

What a weird thing... but I went with this

Charlie McDonnell - A Song About Love

BEDA 6: Coming Out 1

So I went to Liverpool Pride with my mum today. I wore my rainbow eyelashes, we marched, we bought rainbow scarfs and got rainbow lips temporarily tattooed on our chests. We met a lovely lesbian called Rose in the march and we compared our coming out stories, as well as actual tattoos and battle scars.
For those of you who don't know, I'm bisexual.
When I think about it, I think I knew at about age 11, although I didn't really understand anything there. I had a huge crush on Emma Watson in the first Harry Potter. Now, at my current age that would be weird, but I was 9 and she was 11, so that's totally acceptable.

At 13 I told one friend. This one friend told one of her friends (who was kind of my friend,but not so much) and either this conversation was overheard, or she was just a bitch who told everyone. Either way, the entire school knew within about a day, and my life would never be the same again.
At my school, children were mean. Bullying was something they did on a daily basis, and homophobia was just another excuse to make someone else feel bad. The comments I could ignore, but the general dickheadedness of some of the people I had no choice but to put up with was appaling. The teachers did their best, as they did with all bullying cases - but when there are an awful lot of bullying students and only one victim, it's usually easier to try and remove the victim than the bullies.
I spent my breaks sat in a classroom with a couple of my friends, until the head decided to not allow students inside buildings during breaks and I was only allowed the one friend. At that point Donna became my best friend, because she hated the wind and rain we experienced in England almost daily anyway.
There were times when I wished that I could undo my telling people, make it so that nobody knew anymore, remove all memories they had of something that made me an easy target. But that would be lying to myself. Telling everyone may have made life difficult in the short term, but in the long term I am much more accepting of myself and it's so much easier to now say to people 'Yeah, I like both'.

Nowadays my friends care so little that they often forget about it until I go and try to pull women because 'I'm sick of men at the moment!'. It affects their lives so little that it doesn't concern them on a daily basis. Nobody from school was ever directly affected by the fact that I also liked women, but they chose to let it concern them on a daily basis and I feel sad for their sad lives if that is something that they make a conscious choice to do.
Also, I'm sure a lot of the girls were too busy being scared that I fancied them to realise that their boyfriends probably enjoy lesbian porn and would be happier if they were bisexual.
As is the closed minded way of life.




30 Day Song Challenge Day 5: Favourite Slow Song
Butterfly in the Breeze - Eddplant

BEDA 5: There is a moth...

and it is terrorising me.

My room has been tidied recently, and now suddenly there are moths all over the place. My mum smacked one against my arm the other day and now it seems that its big brother is going to make me pay for it for the rest of my life.

It keeps disappearing though. It'll come to fly at my head and scare me and then disappear till tomorrow; when it will gain great happiness in doing it all over again. Obviously I can't be sure that its the same one, but the curtains are closed, so it must be.

I'm usually not scared of tiny little animals like this. I take pride in being the person in the house who will remove the spider from the bath and have had countless arguments about animals that I'm not scared of. Moths aren't scary if they're out of the way and minding their own business, but if they're in my bed, casting shadows when circling my light or flying at my head - they're not welcome.

My mum has offered to get rid of it for me, and did come in with a towel when I ran out of my room (held back the screaming) yesterday because it hit me twice in the head, but it disappeared. It's just climbed up towards my light and jumped at me. I flailed my arms widely and then it disappeared again.

Once again I am paranoid that it's going to kill me in my sleep or something.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 4: Newest/Most Modern Song You Love

Give Me Everything - Pitbull

BEDA 4: The (Not So) Little Girl I've Known A Long Time

We've all had the same treatment from a distant family friend, or an old primary school teacher, who hasn't seen you in years. You've grown up as time has gone on but the last time they saw you, you were 'only as big as [my] knee!' You get the typical 'My, how you've grown' and you just look at the person with a puzzled expression, silently thinking 'Well of course I have, that's how time works!'

I'm sure its something we've all experienced from one end, the other, or both. And it's not until you do experience it from both ends that the puzzled expression fades and you empathise with how they feel.

Picture this: it's 2002, I'm 10 years old and all of the year 6's have taken a course to become 'buddies' for the reception students - although only a certain few get to do it everyday. Although you're supposed to look after a group of a few students, we all tended to take one under our wing.

My 4 year old was the cutest little girl with a blonde bob who was oh-so-quiet but knew how to run. The best part of a year was spent trying to catch her, making sure she spoke up to integrate with the other children and just generally being her friend.

Fast forward to the present day. A couple of weeks ago I saw her in her high school uniform. She's 13. It's been 9 years, but it feels like no more than 9 weeks. I saw her a couple of times and actually played Wii boxing with her on one occasion (she got stroppy because I beat her; some things don't change) but for the most part of 9 years we've just been living on the same street, not the friends we used to be. She's a young woman now, with friends she has to get a bus to see and her GCSE exams coming up in the next two years. But in my head she's still 4, and I can't believe how quickly she's grown up.

I finally understood it. And 5 days after I saw her I ran an old family friend of my mother's; who I hadn't seen for years. She couldn't believe I had already been away and done a year at uni, because to her I was only about 7... And I didn't roll my eyes, I didn't act confused, I totally got how she felt; how old I must make her feel just for having lived as long as I have.

I know that if I told my teenaged 4 year old that I still think of her as being so little from back when I was her 'buddy' and can't believe how she's grown; she'd look at me funny and just shrug it off as something adults say. But one day she'll understand; one day it'll be her.

30 Day Song Challenge Day 3: Oldest Song You Love (I really struggled with this, as I don't know what came out when! So I went with the oldest Beatles song in my iTunes)

Love Me Do - The Beatles

BEDA 3: Mini's Misleading Dream Diary

I never understand any of my dreams, and I'm certainly not analysing them in any kind of Freudian context, we all know he was a weirdo.

My dear friend Sarah was taken into hospital with some medical condition that I don't remember. Her parents couldn't get down to see her so I played the good friend and went to visit her everyday so she wouldn't be alone. The issue was that the hospital was also a school and practically a maze inside, so I got lost on the way to go see her.

She was also told that she was well enough to go a cooking class within the hospital/school, but needed a chaperone, so I went with her to that as well. We came in late and had to take the only remaining pair of seats over the other side of the room as quietly as we could (and if you've met Sarah, you'll know that's not easy ;) ).

The little girl sat next to Sarah was wearing an Esther bracelet, so I started to chat to her about Nerdfighteria for a little while and then her chaperone arrived and it was my friend Dan. I chatted to him and we interrupted the class and were almost thrown out.

Go on then, psychoanalyse my stupid dreams!

Also, it is Esther day today, have you told your family you love them?

30 Day Song Challenge Day 2: Favourite cover song

Behind Blue Eyes - Limp Bizkit

BEDA 2: Mothers and Make-Up (Forum Hatred)

I spend far too much time frequenting The Student Room (or TSR as it will be known from now on). In a thread in which some odd person asked if women would teach their daughters how to shave 'downstairs', somebody compared this to a mother teaching her daughter how to put on make-up.

I am not for mothers teaching their daughters how to shave; but I was disgusted to find that this girl thought it was so wrong to teach your daughter how to put on make up.

My mother rarely wears make-up, so I had to figure out how to apply make-up by myself and through advice from my friends. My mum would always tell me if my make-up looked stupid, but she couldn't tell me how to apply things like foundation and powder, because she had never worn it for herself. In fact, I ended up showing her how to apply bronzing powder when her friend bought her some for her birthday.

The girl on the TSR's reasoning for it being wrong for mothers to teach their daughters to apply make-up is that a mother should not influence her style like that. She should figure it out herself by making her own mistakes and learning what she likes and what looks good. I agree that she should have to learn what looks good herself, but there is nothing wrong with a mother ensuring her daughter does not look like a clown with block eyeshadow, does not have an orange face and keeps her lipstick within the lines of her lips. Just because my mother is helping me does not mean that I will do whatever she says in regards to what I was going to wear; I am perfectly capable of picking things for myself and having her show me how to apply them effectively. Like I have mentioned, I didn't have this luxury as my mother was not really a make-up wearer herself; and I didn't have a big sister either. I would have loved to have been taught how to apply make-up properly when I was younger to save me some of the style disasters that I thought were the result of proper application until a friend showed me otherwise.

Basically what I'm saying - in a rambling sort of way - is that mothers should teach their daughters to apply the make-up that their daughters have chosen to wear. However, the good people of TSR would not have accepted this as a post, especially as the topic of the thread was about shaving and not make-up.

30 Day Song Challenge (another thing I'm doing here) Day 1: Favourite song with a colour in the title.

All In White - The Vaccines