Assuming that God exists, there's no denying that God could totally exist without humans. Nature itself could exist without us - heck, it would probably be better off. So why does God need/want us around? The answer I often encounter is "to tend his Creation". I don't know about you, but even in first grade, if I took the class hamster home for the weekend (as was custom, so that the poor guy didn't starve to death in the empty classroom) and I brought it back hairless, blind, and suffering from PTSD and hamster dysentery, I would probably be stripped of hamster duty for the rest of my elementary school career. Just saying.
And I guess you could call God "it" if you wanted to. I refer to God as "He" because of the whole Jesus thing. If God had made "itself" incarnate through, I don't know, Cher, then I would call God "She". I don't think it matters a ton. I'm not offended as a woman.
I think that the Christian God is kind of indifferent about us, actually, now that Jesus has been here to show humanity how we're supposed to act toward nature and towards each other. I don't necessarily think HIV and other diseases are the result of sin, and they're not a punishment towards the infidels or anything. It's just nature. God also gave humans reason, so that we can work to find cures for diseases and stuff. Creation isn't all bad. There's a lot to be thankful for.
Don't get me wrong. Ask Emily about religion and she will change the subject to something more interesting (ex. "Look over there! What is that?!?") because truth be told, her first year at a Presbyterian-affiliated college has left her with more questions than answers. I think in a sense I believe in everything, which probably makes me either gullible or a paganist, neither of which would help me win a presidential election. Neither would this blog.
God Bless America!
Home: Spokane, WA
About Me: From the home office/bedroom/storage closet of my family's asbestos-ridden grandma house. I enjoy sushi, discovering life's little paradoxymorons, and overanalyzing mainstream pop culture from a safe distance. I believe in democracy, and in aliens, and in love - but I've only ever experienced one of them. My brains got eaten.
posted by Emily at 7:11 PM
Friday, May 30, 2008
In my three years working as a deadpan, mediocre barista at various Starbucks, the fact that I have never completed a Food and Beverage Workers Training Session has never caught up with me. Today, however, I was informed by my manager that if I do not complete this course and take a food safety test, I could get fired.
Thinking about getting fired doesn't scare me nearly as much as it amuses me. I am by no means a beverage-maker extraordinaire, but for some reason I think that my workplace actually values me as a consistent, reliable member of Team Starbucks. I wonder how incredibly uncomfortable it would be to continue to visit that particular Starbucks for my Grande Triple Shot Extra Hot No Foam Sugarfree Nonfat Snobby Pants Latte after my manager had to "let me go" due to something like an absence of proof that I know how to wash my hands. I think I wash my hands with more thoroughness and purpose than did the video instructor. Then again, I was not aware that poultry and casseroles must be heated to 165 degrees fahrenheit before being served to the public, which is essential knowledge for someone who works exclusively with milk and automatic coffee makers.
This is a whiny tangent, but... my dad is kind of an asshole. If you know me personally, you know that already. Friendships are usually made when the intimacy barrier breaks and one of the parties involved reveals a vulnerability or enduring character flaw, and the other accepts them (or at least pretends to). My biggest vulnerability is how much my dad pisses me off. Just now he strolled into the room (which is technically MY room, now that I'm sleeping in this bed) and stood by the computer, saying "I need to check e-mail." Oh, okay. Because I'm not doing anything important, and because you can't wait five minutes for me to get off the computer, and because I should take your statement not as a statement to consider as I compose this blog, but as a veiled threat. "...or else." So I got off the computer, he checked all three of his email accounts, and said, "Uh, you need to clean your room." "What are you making that face for? Huh? What's your problem? Do you work today? You need to take some responsibility. Be an adult."
I get angry so easily.
I wish there was a Family Safety test that you had to take before marrying someone and bringing four children into the world and screwing them all up in different ways. And then you could carry a little certificate in your wallet for the next time you wanted to marry someone. Some people would fail. This way, you could weed out the people who don't actually understand common sense things, like washing your hands, or treating people the way you want to be treated, or apologizing for calling people names, or leaving a bad situation when it's hurting people you care about. I might fail that test, and I guess I could blame my parents, but I'm not such a slave to determinism and I think the real reason is that I am so self-centered, I can't even take a freakin' Food and Beverage Workers Training Session without threat of unemployment.
On the plus side, today can only improve.
Thinking about getting fired doesn't scare me nearly as much as it amuses me. I am by no means a beverage-maker extraordinaire, but for some reason I think that my workplace actually values me as a consistent, reliable member of Team Starbucks. I wonder how incredibly uncomfortable it would be to continue to visit that particular Starbucks for my Grande Triple Shot Extra Hot No Foam Sugarfree Nonfat Snobby Pants Latte after my manager had to "let me go" due to something like an absence of proof that I know how to wash my hands. I think I wash my hands with more thoroughness and purpose than did the video instructor. Then again, I was not aware that poultry and casseroles must be heated to 165 degrees fahrenheit before being served to the public, which is essential knowledge for someone who works exclusively with milk and automatic coffee makers.
This is a whiny tangent, but... my dad is kind of an asshole. If you know me personally, you know that already. Friendships are usually made when the intimacy barrier breaks and one of the parties involved reveals a vulnerability or enduring character flaw, and the other accepts them (or at least pretends to). My biggest vulnerability is how much my dad pisses me off. Just now he strolled into the room (which is technically MY room, now that I'm sleeping in this bed) and stood by the computer, saying "I need to check e-mail." Oh, okay. Because I'm not doing anything important, and because you can't wait five minutes for me to get off the computer, and because I should take your statement not as a statement to consider as I compose this blog, but as a veiled threat. "...or else." So I got off the computer, he checked all three of his email accounts, and said, "Uh, you need to clean your room." "What are you making that face for? Huh? What's your problem? Do you work today? You need to take some responsibility. Be an adult."
I get angry so easily.
I wish there was a Family Safety test that you had to take before marrying someone and bringing four children into the world and screwing them all up in different ways. And then you could carry a little certificate in your wallet for the next time you wanted to marry someone. Some people would fail. This way, you could weed out the people who don't actually understand common sense things, like washing your hands, or treating people the way you want to be treated, or apologizing for calling people names, or leaving a bad situation when it's hurting people you care about. I might fail that test, and I guess I could blame my parents, but I'm not such a slave to determinism and I think the real reason is that I am so self-centered, I can't even take a freakin' Food and Beverage Workers Training Session without threat of unemployment.
On the plus side, today can only improve.