Musings on Luke Skywalker

When we left Luke at the end of The Empire Strikes Back, he was a half-trained padawan who'd just gotten his hand lopped off and his ass handed to him by Darth Vader, along with the emotional trauma of learning that the Sith lord might just be his father. When we see him again in Return of the Jedi, he is - but for a formality - a fully fledged Jedi knight, and "no more training does he require". How did this happen? Are we to believe he just worked all this stuff out for himself? I don't think so.

In that interim period, Luke must have encountered someone to help him fulfill his potential. Someone who could show him how to build a new lightsaber to replace the one he lost. Someone who could teach him to go toe to toe with Vader in saber combat (when Vader is actually trying). Someone who, despite no longer being a Jedi (and thus, "the last of the Jedi will [Luke] be"), has managed to resist the call of the dark side for over twenty years, has known ties to the Rebellion, trained under one of the greatest sword masters in the history of the Jedi order, has experience fighting Sith-trained warriors, and has a vested interest in redeeming Vader rather than killing him.

This is art

It’s art because I say it’s art

If you don’t like it,

you’re not smart

you aren’t cultured enough to understand it

Maybe I’m exploring

the inner psyche of an angsty teen

or an immature adult

Maybe I’m making a statement

about our political system

It doesn’t matter

if you can’t see where I’m doing this

Just pretend you can

Pow!

Instant intellectual

What’s this silly font?

Could’ve written this in five minutes

Maybe I did

Maybe I’m that good

Maybe I spent weeks on it

Agonizing over little details

not Capitalizing

certain words

Random one line stanza

Ten thousand dollars

Someone would pay

I bet

To impress friends

Who don’t get it

This is art

It’s art because I say it’s art

You’ll like it, dammit

I’m a genius

I Didn't Want to be an Atheist

When I was young - maybe 7 or 8 or something - I found out there was no Santa Claus. I overheard my mother talking with one of her friends or relatives on the phone about tracking down some gift or another for my brother and I. Whatever it was, I don't remember; it's not important to the story.

What is important is that those particular gifts had been in our stockings, which everyone knew were filled by Santa. My father noticed me listening and started humming very loudly to get my mom's attention, but the damage had been done. In fact, he probably made it worse by being so obvious about it.

I was sad. Santa wasn't real? How could that be? He was magic! He was the spirit of Christmas! He gave me presents and cards every year! How could he not be real? But clearly he wasn't, and my parents didn't want me to find out because they knew it would upset me. Well, too late for that.

What happened next was weird. I made the conscious decision to keep believing in Santa Claus. Even though I now had reason to believe he was only imaginary, I chose to ignore it. I chose to pretend I'd never witnessed that exchange, and that everything was the way it had always been. Even though I knew - and what's more, I knew that I knew - I didn't accept it. Santa was real, and if I believed it hard enough, he would be.

This continued for maybe two years or so. I want to say I was around 10 when everything fell apart. I'd been doing a good job keeping it up, still writing letters and leaving cookies and everything. It was as much for my brother's benefit as for mine, since he had yet to be disillusioned, as far as I knew. I don't even remember what set it off - I may have just straight-up asked them about it, I don't know - but I had a conversation with my parents in which they explained as gently as they could that yes, Santa - and the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and all the rest - were only just pretend.

I broke. I was crushed. Heartbroken. Devastated. Even as I cried - sobbed, more like - I couldn't help but think in the back of my mind that this shouldn't really have come as a surprise. After all, if I were being honest with myself, I'd known for years.

But that was just it. I wasn't being honest with myself, and I hadn't been. I'd known, but I hadn't let myself believe it, or even think about it. I ignored what my rational mind was telling me and just went with what I wanted to be true because it made me feel better, but I couldn't do that anymore. That was the real reason I was so upset, I think, now that I look back on it. It wasn't the shock of finding out Santa was made-up, for that wasn't really a shock at all. It was the fact that I could no longer pretend, that I no longer had any excuse to ignore the facts, now that they'd been laid bare in front of me explicitly. No matter what I wanted to be true, it wasn't true, and I could no longer avoid facing that reality.

I recovered, obviously. Adjusting to a world without Santa isn't particularly difficult after all, and kids are resilient. Still, I'll never forget that crushing feeling of anguish, the wracking sobs in response to something that in all honestly shouldn't be that big of a deal. I think if I'd let the reality sink in right away instead of fighting it for so long, it wouldn't have been so hard. But when you're a child, you don't think that way. Hell, most adults don't think that way either except in hindsight. Case in point.

Fast forward a few years. I was around fourteen, or near enough that it makes no difference. I'd been going to church since before I could talk (we were raised Catholic), and had attended Sunday School for most of my childhood as well (even if most of that time was spent thinking up inventively immature names for the "Hello, my name is..." stickers). I digress.

It popped out of nowhere, as most profound thoughts do, when we were driving home one day. My mother, as always, reminded us to bless ourselves as we drove past the church. Instead of just doing it like I always did, I instead thought, "Why?" This couldn't possibly be important, could it? With all the things we do and say in our lives, even at 14 I could hardly imagine God or Jesus really caring one way or another if we blessed ourselves while driving past a church.

That one little thought took root, and I started looking at all the other ritual behaviors I had been raised to remember. Pray the rosary, genuflect, Eucharist, the Nicene Creed, and all of it just stopped making sense. What did any of this have to do with being a good person? With believing in God? Upon closer inspection, it all started to look unimportant and made up.

That terrified me, since I instinctively knew where such a line of thought would lead, and that I didn't want to go there. So, without even realizing what I was doing, without even considering the experience I'd gone through only a few years before, I forced myself to stop thinking about it. I poured myself into the church like I never had before. As a kid it had always been boring, but now, it felt like my life and soul depended on it. Literally.

I'm sure I never thought the actual phrase "Don't let me stop believing", but that's what was truly running though my heart and mind every time I prayed. I didn't want to lose my faith. It had been a part of me my entire life. I'd always taken it as a given that God was just as real as my parents, and the stories of the Bible were just as authentic as the ones in my history textbook. Now these beliefs were being challenged - not by some overheard conversation or outside influence, but by my own mind. For no matter how hard I tried to suppress them, the doubts and questions I'd been asking myself grew every day, and became harder and harder to ignore.

Eventually - I don't recall exactly when, but I remember thinking about it at the time - I reached that same state as before, where I knew it wasn't real but chose to pretend it was. I tried so hard to get back that feeling that I'd lost, and I didn't even realize I was making myself miserable doing it. I was caught in a Sisyphus-like struggle and only my subconscious was aware of it.

At last I did allow myself to let go - to let that boulder roll down the hill once and for all and not chase after it, not try to push it back up. And it was painful, yes. But less so than the first time. Maybe because I'd gone through the experience before and could handle it better, maybe because I hadn't fought against it for so long, maybe because I was older and more emotionally mature, I don't know.

What I do know is that finally accepting none of it was real came as a great release. The terror I'd felt at losing that connection washed away in the knowledge that there had never been a connection to lose in the first place. It was all in my head. Now I was all the better equipped to face reality head-on, and it felt great. Liberating. Peaceful. Enlightening. All those things you hear about people experiencing when they reach an epiphany - they really do happen.

I didn't say anything to my parents for another couple of years and kept going to church, going through the motions. I didn't want to hurt them. My mom more than my dad, really. Amazingly, it was neither painful nor miserable. A trifle boring at times, but more intellectually stimulating than I ever remembered it being when I actually believed in it. Strange, that.

Finally, when I was 18 my mom and I were in the car leaving the doctor's for one reason or another, and she mentioned heading to church later that evening as it was Ash Wednesday. I felt in my gut that this was the moment (also I really didn't want to go, but that's not the point). I would later joke (and still do) that I gave up Catholicism for Lent.

People ask all sorts of questions when they learn you're an atheist. The one I get most often is some variation of, "Aren't you unhappy?" The assumption seems to be that without some sort of higher power to believe in, my life must be empty or lacking in some way. Having lived on both sides of that dichotomy, I can say that the exact opposite is true. I've never been so miserable as when I was forcing myself to believe in something that in my heart I didn't, and I've never been happier than when I let those beliefs go. It was as though they were an anchor on my mind, weighing it down, and now I'm free. Free to explore, free to experience the world for what it is instead of through the lens of what I and others think it ought to be.

My life is anything but empty. If anything, the knowledge that there isn't some magical cloud-land to go to after I die gives everything that much more meaning. Every experience is special, every bit of nature and history I can observe is beautiful, the universe and its vast grandeur never fail to overwhelm me with a sense of wonder and awe. I've been known to stand outside looking up at the night sky for hours at a time, doing nothing but just contemplating, just feeling the wonder and beauty of existence. It's something I think everyone should try. It's a humbling yet euphoric experience. In short, going back to the title of this entry, I didn't want to be an atheist, but I'm glad I am.

There are no gods. How do I know this? The same way I know there is no Santa Claus, no Easter Bunny, no Tooth Fairy. The same way I know there is no Hogwarts, no Wonderland, no Oz. Someone made them up, and in our collective imagination we gave life to them. The only problem is at some point we forgot that they weren't real, that they were only stories, that they were born in the minds of men (and women). That we created them, not the other way around.

There may well be some cosmic force in the universe that our current science cannot explain, understand, or even detect. It may fit some people's definition of "divine" in nature. It may even have a consciousness, I don't know. What I do know, beyond any doubt, is that if such a thing exists, then it truly is beyond our current capacity to comprehend. If such a thing exists, it in no way resembles any of the myriad things mankind has invented over the centuries to represent it. If such a thing exists, we are so far beneath its notice - and it so far above ours - as to make no difference whether it exists or not. It is completely irrelevant. And finally, if such a thing exists, it sure as hell doesn't give a crap if I draw a cross on my forehead when I drive past a church.

Relgion: A Thing of the Past

Religion comes from a time when people didn't understand the world around them. Things like weather and natural disasters (to say nothing of the sheer vastness of the world in which they lived and the universe beyond) were beyond their ability to comprehend, let alone control. They were afraid, so they had gods to comfort them. We have science for that now.

Religion comes from a time when people were wild. Many were wont to follow whatever whims struck their fancy, for good or ill, so they had divine laws to control them. We have government for that now.

Religion comes from a time when power meant survival. Either you controlled the lives of other men, or were controlled and your life was in others' hands, so they had priesthoods and the like to give men power and influence over others. We have corporations for that now.

Religion is the last remnant of ancient superstition and primal fear. It takes its strength from all that is wrong in us: our ambition, our weak-mindedness, and our tendency to exclude all those who differ from us. In a modern world we need not such things, and indeed would be better off without them. Religion is not only irrelevant to modern life, it is detrimental and should be forgotten like so many aspects of our past: slavery, bloodsport, arranged marriage, and all the rest that we now in our enlightened age call "uncivilized".

Health Care - A Clever Subtitle Eludes Me

Let me tell you a little something about the "greatest health care system in the world".

When I was living in Korea, it astonished me how often my Korean friends would suggest I go to the hospital. For every little cough, it seemed. This is totally the opposite of the way Americans do things. We avoid going to the doctor unless absolutely necessary, and shun the hospital for seemingly anything less than imminent death. Regardless, I did end up going a few times when the alternative was missing work, and I was amazed at how efficient and cheap it all was. Still, the American in me continued opting to "tough it out" most of the time.

Then once last winter I caught something really awful. It hit me out of completely nowhere. One day I was fine and the next, composing my last will and testament. My throat hurt terribly and it was incredibly painful to swallow or even speak (which can be a real hindrance when one's job mostly entails speaking for long periods of time). I had a number of other flu-like symptoms as well.

One day of this was all it took to convince me I didn't want to put up with such misery for any longer than absolutely necessary. Thus I left early for work the next day, and stopped by the hospital on my way. A specialist was able to see me after about a half hour of waiting, and he informed me that I had tonsillitis. He wrote me a prescription which I had filled at the pharmacy next door to where I worked, and took my first dose the minute I sat down at my desk. By the time I headed home that evening, I was already feeling better, and by the next day it was like I'd never been sick at all. The entire ordeal? From walk-in at the hospital to taking the first dose of medicine: under two hours and approximately US$60. Let's take a look at what that would have been like here in the states, shall we?

First, I'd have had to make an appointment with my own physician - assuming I even have one (I don't, having lived overseas for a couple of years). Cross my fingers he can get me in some time this week. Assuming he's totally on the ball, he catches the tonsillitis the first time and writes me a prescription. I have to pay him, and just hope to god I have insurance, because even with it my co-pay could be anywhere from $15 to $50. Maybe more. If he doesn't catch it right off, I'll have to be referred to a specialist. This means more waiting around for an appointment, and another bill to pay. Expect both wait time and fees due to be higher than the first go-round.

When I finally go to buy my medicine, I hope there's a generic brand I can get for under triple digits. All told? I'm out a couple hundred bucks and had to suffer through swallowing and speaking for at least a couple of days, if not the better part of a week or more. And I likely missed some work too, because even if I wanted to make myself more miserable by doing anything other than lying on the couch drinking juice, most employers tend to frown on their employees infecting an entire workplace. Though I'm not entirely sure if tonsillitis is communicable, so there's a silver lining. Feeling like death and no excuse to stay home? Why doesn't every country adopt this clearly superior model?

Suck it, Hannity.

One Party Dies, Another Will Rise

Republicans are a dying breed. They've just watched their last great hope of reclaiming the White House go up in smoke. Their two strongest demographics - old people and white men - are shrinking. One is simply dying off, while the other is becoming a smaller and smaller piece of the overall pie. Meanwhile, the strongest growing demographics all belong to the Democrats: Hispanics, Atheists, and the youth vote.

Atheists are the fastest growing "religious" demographic in America. At approximately 15%, we already outnumber Jews, Muslims, and basically anybody who's not Christian. And our numbers are growing faster than anybody else's

Hispanics typically vote Democrat, and they're the fastest growing ethnic minority. In fact, just about every minority votes Democrat: Hispanics, blacks, LGBT, women, etc.. Why is this? Social issues. People have all sorts of ideas about what they want the economy to do and how they want the government involved with it (or not), and those can go all over the political spectrum. But for a lot of people, their big social issues are non-negotiable, and the Democrats are the ones not stuck in the stone age, so they get the votes.

All this aside, the single #1 reason why the Republicans will never win the White House again: the youth vote. Young people tend to be more liberal by nature, and they also tend to put more emphasis on social issues than economic ones. We've already established that the Democrats are the socially liberal option, so they get the youth vote. Since statistically speaking people tend to continue voting however they did in their first election, this means that Democrats will keep getting more and more votes as more new voters come of age, and Republicans will get fewer and fewer as their established base grows old and dies off.

We've already seen the pattern. States that used to be swing states (like Michigan and Pennsylvania) are now solidly blue. Former solid red states like Virginia and North Carolina are now swing. And with Puerto Rico in line to become a state (that will undoubtedly go blue), the Republicans are all but dead already.

The Libertarians are the future. There is a party that offers what fiscal conservatives want while allowing for the personal and social liberties that the Republicans oppose. They will take their place as America's second major party while the Republicans go the way of the Whigs, gradually fading into obscurity and irrelevance as the Democrats, who can trace their roots to the time Andrew Jackson and even some of the founders themselves, lumber on. Why? Because they know how to do something that the Republicans, and the Whigs before them, and the Federalists before them, never figured out: they can change with the times.

Lose the Letters

Whenever a politician appears on TV, or in the newspaper, or in advertisements beamed directly into our brains (they're working on it), they always have that little parenthetical letter after their name. R - Republican. D-Democrat. I-Independent. L-Lol, like anyone would vote for something out of R&D.

Why is this? We've pigeonholed ourselves into an electoral system in which party is the only significant factor. Or at least, it's the most significant factor. That's terrible. I can't imagine how many people watch a political ad, see the letter, and then tune out everything else as if it were the teacher from Peanuts talking, having already made their decision based on that single character.

Why do we even have candidates anymore? Just have a sign that says, "Vote R!" Or "Vote D!" That's what people are doing anyway, and then they could just fill the slot with whomever they please afterward. Joe the Plumber could be our next congressman. Or Phil from accounts receivable. You don't know who these people are, but that's not important because you know what letter they wear.

I say take the letters out. Force people to actually engage their higher cognitive functions - assuming they still can - and make them figure out which party the candidate belongs to based on what they say in their ads. Or better yet, maybe they'll just be able to determine if they like the candidate or not, regardless of party. It sure would get people to put a little bit more thought into their votes, and while it might scare some folks off who can't be bothered to work things out for themselves, are those really the kind of people we want voting in the first place?

I'm Illjwamh (A), and I approve this message.