I have always dreamed of being an astronomer. Ever since that first time I watched Star Wars, and probably before then, space has intrigued me. There was this one book I remember as a child reading this one book about the planets of the solar system. In it, there was this haunting image of the vividly blue planet Neptune that dominated my subconscious thought. One of the only dreams I remember, quite vividly still, is of being lost in this unending Neptunian ocean. That was the summer I learned how to swim, so my mind was probably just making connections. However, in this dream, I remember swimming around, looking for something to grab onto, some sort of land. But I never did, and I woke up.
Indeed, when I found out that Neptune was actually just a big ball of gas, not liquid water, I was quite crushed. I guess it was one of those loss of innocence moments, finding out that I could never actually swim on Neptune. Yet, finding out that fact only seemed to spark more interest in the mysteries of the universe for me…
But, somehow between then and just recently, I must have lost my way. As I took more science classes, I began to slowly despise how these mysteries began to fade away. When I bought my first telescope (after begging and pleading my parents to get a really expensive one), and pointed it towards the moon, I was very disappointed.
Many years passed…
It must have been about two years since I actually touched my telescope. The big behemoth reflector sat right outside my room, collecting dust. Then, for some reason, I decide to haul it out, just for the hell of it.
It was a summer night, warm enough to where I could just sit outside the whole time in jeans and a T-shirt. The high school graduation ceremony only a month ago still fresh in my mind. So, in the park behind my house, I set the telescope up on this little man made hill and just gazed at the universe. It was dark enough to where I could easily see the outline of the Milky Way. I decided to point my telescope towards the planet Jupiter (I could never find Neptune…). As I located Jupiter in the sky and looked through the eyepiece, the view amazed me. I could easily see three or four of Jupiter’s moons, and of course, Jupiter itself. This one little image, beautiful in its simplicity, re-inspired my love for space.
When I look at the stars, when I think about the universe now, things are alternately simple and mysterious. When I think about all the galaxies, nebulas, black holes, etc., I realize that this is existence. Everything that we are is located here. Yet, no one can even begin to imagine the true size and scope of it all…
Of course, the main questions that pops up from there are, why is the universe here? Why is this existence? At some point in my life, I hope to answer these questions.
When I think of these questions, when I try to answer them, these are the times I feel like a kid again. I remember the times when things didn’t seem to make sense, but I could look forward to finding the answers as I gained experience. As I succeeded. As I failed. I am humbled by how much I don’t know, but very eager to learn.
Such is life, I guess; it’s not about finding the answer, rather, it’s about the voyage we go through in finding the answer. Yeah, that’s pretty vague, so what?
Thursday, March 20, 2008
Sunday, March 02, 2008
fall to the darkside...
And now for something you probably won’t like…
For those of you who know me, you know how I despise religion. I won’t show it outwardly, unless there’s something that really gets to me. But, if you are talking about praying, going to church, or missions, and you take a look at me, you will notice my distance…
I was a Catholic. I went through all of the necessary sacraments; from baptism to confirmation. My whole family, on both sides, is devoutly Catholic. But, a little while into last year, I just decide to stop going to church. Something just didn’t click with me, I guess.
You see, as I sat in church those first 18 years of my life, I never really believed in anything that was being said. From there being a higher power to the belief that one guy died for our supposed sins. Nothing made any sense.
Why do we believe in these things such as God? Well, I guess in order to answer that question, we’d have to understand the whole idea of faith and belief. To me, faith and belief are completely and totally different from person to person. It has to be.
We all have our own set of preconceived notions that define how we think. It is what formed these notions that defines who we are as a person. We can change, but not easily.
This is where faith comes in, I believe (no pun intended). When there is something that we don’t understand, we can either attempt to understand it, or, leave it a mystery. Both ways have their uses.
The problem I have with religion is how a lot of people use it as more of a crutch than anything else. They use it as a reason for persecution of others with differing beliefs. They use it as an excuse to justify social injustice. They use it as empty encouragement when they don’t know anything else to say.
There is this image burned in my mind of something I saw in downtown as I waited for the bus back to Davis in Downtown Sacramento. Outside the capital building, parked right by the crosswalk, sat this truck adorned with a large cross protruding from the roof, and messages written all over the sides. It was labeled a as a “truth truck.” The messages it was sending out? “Repent for your sins!” “Homosexuality is a sin!” so on and so forth.
It took me all my might to stop myself from pissing on the truck right then and there. So, instead, I just hocked a big luggie on the hood.
But, it also got me to thinking; how could the same religion that preaches peace and forgiveness also foster this kind of hate and intolerance?
The only answer I can give to that is that faith and belief are totally different from person to person.
Now, what does this have to do with me totally losing faith in my own religion? Well, simply put, everything lost all meaning to me.
When I hear someone saying “God will show you the way” and “Christ is the way,” they have absolutely no weight with me. Even when I thought I was a Catholic, these phrases, the prayers, the simple act of going to church felt empty and meaningless. To me, they almost represent a form of ignorance.
I guess you could say that I was never really Catholic in the first place. You could also say that I just don’t have the connection with God or whatnot that others who truly believe do. But, to counter, I would say that I tried deeply to have a connection with God. You see, as I said before, Catholicism is as much a part of my family as my name. When I say my whole family is religious, I really mean my whole family. My great aunt has been a Catholic nun for more than 50 years…
It’s just, it didn’t click with me. Religion in general just did not click with me. When I started questioning why I believed in this stuff, I really couldn’t find any reasons why I should stick with this religion thing. I just don’t believe.
I know that religion is an extremely personal thing, and to question one’s deeply held beliefs pretty much constitutes blasphemy. But my point, if there is any to this rant, is that there are times you should really question everything that defines your being. You might find out something about yourself that you didn’t know. I cannot believe in pre destiny, I cannot believe that some higher power controls or guides us in our voyage through life. But, like the poet George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."
For those of you who know me, you know how I despise religion. I won’t show it outwardly, unless there’s something that really gets to me. But, if you are talking about praying, going to church, or missions, and you take a look at me, you will notice my distance…
I was a Catholic. I went through all of the necessary sacraments; from baptism to confirmation. My whole family, on both sides, is devoutly Catholic. But, a little while into last year, I just decide to stop going to church. Something just didn’t click with me, I guess.
You see, as I sat in church those first 18 years of my life, I never really believed in anything that was being said. From there being a higher power to the belief that one guy died for our supposed sins. Nothing made any sense.
Why do we believe in these things such as God? Well, I guess in order to answer that question, we’d have to understand the whole idea of faith and belief. To me, faith and belief are completely and totally different from person to person. It has to be.
We all have our own set of preconceived notions that define how we think. It is what formed these notions that defines who we are as a person. We can change, but not easily.
This is where faith comes in, I believe (no pun intended). When there is something that we don’t understand, we can either attempt to understand it, or, leave it a mystery. Both ways have their uses.
The problem I have with religion is how a lot of people use it as more of a crutch than anything else. They use it as a reason for persecution of others with differing beliefs. They use it as an excuse to justify social injustice. They use it as empty encouragement when they don’t know anything else to say.
There is this image burned in my mind of something I saw in downtown as I waited for the bus back to Davis in Downtown Sacramento. Outside the capital building, parked right by the crosswalk, sat this truck adorned with a large cross protruding from the roof, and messages written all over the sides. It was labeled a as a “truth truck.” The messages it was sending out? “Repent for your sins!” “Homosexuality is a sin!” so on and so forth.
It took me all my might to stop myself from pissing on the truck right then and there. So, instead, I just hocked a big luggie on the hood.
But, it also got me to thinking; how could the same religion that preaches peace and forgiveness also foster this kind of hate and intolerance?
The only answer I can give to that is that faith and belief are totally different from person to person.
Now, what does this have to do with me totally losing faith in my own religion? Well, simply put, everything lost all meaning to me.
When I hear someone saying “God will show you the way” and “Christ is the way,” they have absolutely no weight with me. Even when I thought I was a Catholic, these phrases, the prayers, the simple act of going to church felt empty and meaningless. To me, they almost represent a form of ignorance.
I guess you could say that I was never really Catholic in the first place. You could also say that I just don’t have the connection with God or whatnot that others who truly believe do. But, to counter, I would say that I tried deeply to have a connection with God. You see, as I said before, Catholicism is as much a part of my family as my name. When I say my whole family is religious, I really mean my whole family. My great aunt has been a Catholic nun for more than 50 years…
It’s just, it didn’t click with me. Religion in general just did not click with me. When I started questioning why I believed in this stuff, I really couldn’t find any reasons why I should stick with this religion thing. I just don’t believe.
I know that religion is an extremely personal thing, and to question one’s deeply held beliefs pretty much constitutes blasphemy. But my point, if there is any to this rant, is that there are times you should really question everything that defines your being. You might find out something about yourself that you didn’t know. I cannot believe in pre destiny, I cannot believe that some higher power controls or guides us in our voyage through life. But, like the poet George Bernard Shaw once wrote, “Life isn't about finding yourself. Life is about creating yourself."
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Memories...
So, I’ve been 19 for about a month now. Nothing has really changed. I still feel the same way I did when I was 18. But then again, I didn’t really expect anything to change. No one really does. It’s like that one U2 song says, “nothing changes on new years day…” Those who expect things to change just like that are likely to be fickle, anyway…
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about my past. Nothing really special, it’s just that I’ve been dwelling on a few memories more than the others. Nothing really specific, actually. Basic frames of times, I guess. The memories I’ve been dwelling on? Summers from 3rd grade on…
You see, those summers were really the happiest times of my life, I’m beginning to realize just now. Just an overview of what happened those years: in during the summer of 3rd grade, my family and I had just moved into the house I live in now in East Davis. At the time I really hated that we had moved away from all my friends at the old apartment complex. However, as time moved on, I grew to love the situation I was in. I finally had my own room. Across the way lived a beautiful girl the same age as I (but even then totally out of my league). Behind the house being a large park where I could play on the play structure or just ride my bike around. Still, things never were the same because of the two friends I had left behind at the apartment complex. I would never make friends like them again, or so I thought…
The summer of 4th grade. The first summer I had to go to summer camp. I guess my parents thought it was too much of burden to stay home all summer from their jobs, and they probably got tired of seeing me sitting on my ass all the time at home. So, they sent me off to this summer program the CDC (Child Development Center) my school put on every summer. I pretty much hated this place. It took me forever to make friends there. But, by god, I made friends. They were all younger than I was, mostly, but still, it felt good that I was actually socializing with people of the summer instead of just sitting at home and watching cartoons all day long…
The summer of 5th grade. I split time between the CDC summer program and another little camp called Rainbow Summer, going back and forth between the two for reasons I don’t understand why. There, at Rainbow Summer, you were forced to sit outside most of the freaking time. I was at the Rainbow Summer camp located in Community Park in Davis. I guess for that reason, I grew to love this camp better than the CDC one. Indeed, there was this one time where I was at the CDC camp and we were at our bi-weekly trip to Community pool. Since Rainbow Summer also met by there, it was inevitable that I would see them. Of course, I did, and what followed was one of my favorite memories of summer… Not that I will tell you, hahaha…
The summer of 6th grade. I spent the entire summer at Rainbow Summer. I also spent the entire summer waiting for this one girl who I thought would be there that year, since she was there at times last year (the times I was at CDC instead, go figure). Of course, she never showed up. But I still got to see the friends I had made the past year there once more, and made a few more. I never did see that girl again, until 8th grade, when she transferred to Holmes Junior High for some reason. Wow, looking back, that is a whole hell of a long time ago now…
Ok, so that wasn’t really a short recap of what happened…
Anyway, thinking back on those memories made me realize, I haven’t really changed much since then. I mean, I my tastes have changed a little, friends come and gone, but the feelings have stayed the same. It’s like that Maya Angelou saying, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” It’s so true, to me at least. I have never forgotten what those times made me feel. They made me feel, well, alive, for lack of a better word. I look back on those times and I weep, I weep because I know that they will never come again. Yet, I also weep because I know that they were the best times of my life up to this point. If I strive to recreate those times, I will fail.
So, what do I do? If I cannot bring back those times, I might as well try to bring back those feelings. Like I said, the situation has changed, but not how I feel. If just for a split second, I could bring those feelings back, I would give the world for it. But I know all I really need to do is live life for what it is. A new time will come when those same feelings will reappear, and I will look back just as I am now and say, “damn.” I can’t pray for it (not that I pray anymore anyway), can’t predict when it will come. But, I will know just as I do now, that there are great times ahead. There will be some bad times too, but how do you know good without the bad?
Am I old? 19 seems a whole hell of a lot older than 18. But, like I said, nothing has really changed. Nothing has changed since I was that 8-year-old boy in 3rd grade. For some reason, I am glad that this is the case. I can look back on that little boy and totally relate to him. Yet, I cannot live in the past. And that is where I am scared. I have been an adult for a whole year now, yet I still think like a child. I guess thinking about your past and analyzing it can be a sign of maturity…
Just to say something final, I will say one thing. There are quite a few things that that little boy never did. One of them being telling that girl how he felt about her. If there is one time good about age, it is that it gives you a little perspective on things. Not that I still have those same feelings for that girl now. I still have those same feelings, just not for her. Yet, I just wonder, what would have happened if I had told her. There is always time to find out…
I’ve been thinking a lot recently about my past. Nothing really special, it’s just that I’ve been dwelling on a few memories more than the others. Nothing really specific, actually. Basic frames of times, I guess. The memories I’ve been dwelling on? Summers from 3rd grade on…
You see, those summers were really the happiest times of my life, I’m beginning to realize just now. Just an overview of what happened those years: in during the summer of 3rd grade, my family and I had just moved into the house I live in now in East Davis. At the time I really hated that we had moved away from all my friends at the old apartment complex. However, as time moved on, I grew to love the situation I was in. I finally had my own room. Across the way lived a beautiful girl the same age as I (but even then totally out of my league). Behind the house being a large park where I could play on the play structure or just ride my bike around. Still, things never were the same because of the two friends I had left behind at the apartment complex. I would never make friends like them again, or so I thought…
The summer of 4th grade. The first summer I had to go to summer camp. I guess my parents thought it was too much of burden to stay home all summer from their jobs, and they probably got tired of seeing me sitting on my ass all the time at home. So, they sent me off to this summer program the CDC (Child Development Center) my school put on every summer. I pretty much hated this place. It took me forever to make friends there. But, by god, I made friends. They were all younger than I was, mostly, but still, it felt good that I was actually socializing with people of the summer instead of just sitting at home and watching cartoons all day long…
The summer of 5th grade. I split time between the CDC summer program and another little camp called Rainbow Summer, going back and forth between the two for reasons I don’t understand why. There, at Rainbow Summer, you were forced to sit outside most of the freaking time. I was at the Rainbow Summer camp located in Community Park in Davis. I guess for that reason, I grew to love this camp better than the CDC one. Indeed, there was this one time where I was at the CDC camp and we were at our bi-weekly trip to Community pool. Since Rainbow Summer also met by there, it was inevitable that I would see them. Of course, I did, and what followed was one of my favorite memories of summer… Not that I will tell you, hahaha…
The summer of 6th grade. I spent the entire summer at Rainbow Summer. I also spent the entire summer waiting for this one girl who I thought would be there that year, since she was there at times last year (the times I was at CDC instead, go figure). Of course, she never showed up. But I still got to see the friends I had made the past year there once more, and made a few more. I never did see that girl again, until 8th grade, when she transferred to Holmes Junior High for some reason. Wow, looking back, that is a whole hell of a long time ago now…
Ok, so that wasn’t really a short recap of what happened…
Anyway, thinking back on those memories made me realize, I haven’t really changed much since then. I mean, I my tastes have changed a little, friends come and gone, but the feelings have stayed the same. It’s like that Maya Angelou saying, “I've learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.” It’s so true, to me at least. I have never forgotten what those times made me feel. They made me feel, well, alive, for lack of a better word. I look back on those times and I weep, I weep because I know that they will never come again. Yet, I also weep because I know that they were the best times of my life up to this point. If I strive to recreate those times, I will fail.
So, what do I do? If I cannot bring back those times, I might as well try to bring back those feelings. Like I said, the situation has changed, but not how I feel. If just for a split second, I could bring those feelings back, I would give the world for it. But I know all I really need to do is live life for what it is. A new time will come when those same feelings will reappear, and I will look back just as I am now and say, “damn.” I can’t pray for it (not that I pray anymore anyway), can’t predict when it will come. But, I will know just as I do now, that there are great times ahead. There will be some bad times too, but how do you know good without the bad?
Am I old? 19 seems a whole hell of a lot older than 18. But, like I said, nothing has really changed. Nothing has changed since I was that 8-year-old boy in 3rd grade. For some reason, I am glad that this is the case. I can look back on that little boy and totally relate to him. Yet, I cannot live in the past. And that is where I am scared. I have been an adult for a whole year now, yet I still think like a child. I guess thinking about your past and analyzing it can be a sign of maturity…
Just to say something final, I will say one thing. There are quite a few things that that little boy never did. One of them being telling that girl how he felt about her. If there is one time good about age, it is that it gives you a little perspective on things. Not that I still have those same feelings for that girl now. I still have those same feelings, just not for her. Yet, I just wonder, what would have happened if I had told her. There is always time to find out…
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