Apartment locating services seem like a great idea. They are paid by the apartment complex rather than the person using their services, and they often (if not always) pay a rebate upon signing the lease. What you may not realize is that apartment complexes pay locators different rates, usually a percentage of a month’s rent. Locators will not tell you about apartments that don’t pay locators very much or at all, so they only care about the needs of the person they’re helping after they take care of their own needs. If you truly want to find the best deal on an apartment that you can get, do the research yourself. There’s really no information that you need that only a real estate agent can get. Call the apartments to tell them about anything fuzzy in your history, like broken leases or criminal background, and see if they’ll work with you before you visit them. Locators are in it to make money by funneling people into apartments that pay them the most, not to help you find an apartment.
I just got a new tire for my bike, and in the process of putting it on, I poked a hole in it, putting me back at square 1. I guess I’ll just have to patch it later and ride a different bike until then. Still, when I saw that I had popped a hole in the new tire, I was very angry, but I didn’t stay angry for very long. It was about five minutes ago when it happened, and I quickly got back to the calm feeling I was in before. It’s weird, like I don’t even care that I’ve spent so much time on this project only to end up back where I started. But when I look at some other things I put a lot of time into only to see turn into nothing (like the relationship with Danielle), I can put it all in perspective and realize that this isn’t that big of a deal. I was only fixing the bike up so I could use it to get to work, and I don’t even want to go there in the first place.
That’s what they want me to post every day. It’s not going to happen. It can’t be done in the time I have here. The office manager told me it’s very important that I get that many posted today, and she said it like it was a warning. I think this adventure is about to end because they ask too much of me, and they don’t appreciate what I do. I don’t care. I didn’t ask for this. I’m only here to pacify people who want me to have a job. Hopefully, Nicole will be out of the army soon, and then the real adventure begins.
This is all so stupid. Why do people just accept that in order to live, they have to do things they don’t really like? Why are people willing to compromise their happiness in order to conform to some arbitrary standard? I want to bring it all down. I want to destroy the comfort of the complacent and change the way society works.
When people say that there is no god, what they mean is that there is no Yahweh, the christian god. This shouldn’t be such a hot-button issue, but it is because a lot of people feel very strongly about it. It clouds their judgment and makes it hard to talk to people about.
Atheists don’t just not believe in Yahweh. We don’t believe in any other gods either, and christians forget that. They forget that Zeus is a god, and both groups don’t believe in him. The difference, of course, is that christians believe he doesn’t exist, and atheists either believe that he doesn’t exist or don’t believe that he does exist. There is a difference, and the difference is certainty. Christians are sure that Zeus doesn’t exist because they are sure that Yahweh exists even though there is no evidence for either. Gnostic atheists are equally sure of the nonexistence of any god, and agnostic atheists are equally uncertain about the existence of any god. We’re open to evidence. We just haven’t been shown any.
Christians think that by referring to their god as God, it makes him special. It doesn’t. He’s just one of millions of gods dreamed up by people over the hundreds of thousands of years we’ve been on this planet. I can’t prove that he doesn’t exist, but I don’t have to. Evidence of a thing’s nonexistence isn’t necessary for belief in that thing to be absent. My beliefs are based on evidence and logic. If something cannot be proven, then it should not be believed. That is the essence of my atheism.
Go to the following page logged into the account you want to delete.
Put in your password and type in the capcha thing, and don’t log in for two weeks. Bingo bango, you’re out, and there’s less of your personal information on the internet, assuming you signed up with personal information to begin with (which is a stupid thing to do).
A few days had passed since drone 997754810’s death. Queen Blix hadn’t completely gotten over it, but outward signs of her grief were no longer showing, and she had resumed ordering scouts and gatherers out of the colony. Her willingness to send her children out again was in large part due to the decision to use a trick she learned about from her own mother, who heard about it from her mother and so on for countless generations. It hadn’t been used in the memory of any living ant, but Blix thought it was time to try it if she could. Ants communicated telepathically by sharing a link when their antennae touched. At some point, one ant queen in ancient times figured out how to transfer her will and consciousness into one of her drones. In essence, she temporarily “became” that drone. What rare qualities could that queen have had to even conceive of such a thing? Was she as caring of her children as Blix, or was she manipulative?
Queen Blix called in drone 52789, a gatherer from one of her first birthgivings, and told her to join antennae with her. Without question or hesitation, 52789 obeyed. Blix felt a twinge of guilt for what she was about to do, because she had no way of knowing what would happen or if the drone would recover. She just had to know what dangers stomped around on the surface. It had been so long since she took her nuptial flight, she had forgotten. She did the meditation exercise she was taught, and then she reached into 52789’s mind in search of the control and sensory centers. They were remarkably easy to find. In seconds, Blix was looking at herself through the eyes of her daughter.
“I’m sorry I have to do this, 52789,” she said to ‘herself’. “When this is over, I’ll give you a real name like mine.”
Blix crawled out of her chamber for the first time in a long time and followed another gatherer through a maze of tunnels all the way up to the surface, where the warm sunlight fell directly down on her child’s black exoskeleton. The sight of the jungle of grasses and flowers reminded her of her youth, and in that much more youthful body, she almost forgot she was a well aged queen. She almost expected to feel wings on her back, but when she tried to stretch them out, she was reminded that the body she was in was not her own and never had wings.
Using the sharp senses of her daughter’s body, Blix picked up the pheromone trail of another member of her colony. A scout had found something big and established a trail to claim it and carry it back home. She followed it closely behind the gatherer she had followed out of the tunnels, and after a long walk, they came upon a dead baby bird. An adult bird was a terrifying sight for any insect, but a corpse was cause for celebration if ants did that kind of thing. Baby birds were an especially good find because they lacked feathers and so were much easier to pick meat from.
Blix stepped to the side, off the trail, to take in the scene. Dozens of her children were busy tearing chunks of flesh from the corpse. They all knew how to do their job, and they did it without complaint. They had to. It was their way. Only their queen was capable of the level of thought that caused her to deviate from the job of the body she was in and examine the situation mentally. There had been no danger. No giant feet had come down from the sky. No beaks of death fell upon them from the heavens. Perhaps the death of 997754810 was a fluke. A pure accident. There certainly did not seem to be a reason to fear it happening again any time soon. Relieved, Blix turned without pitching in to the food gathering effort and started to make her way back. She walked beside another gatherer, one who had left earlier and carried a piece of bird big enough to shade them both from the sun’s light.
Suddenly, the shade grew much darker. Blix looked up and noticed a strangely uniform pattern on the surface of something very large coming down toward them.
‘Not again! I knew this would happen! It’s the human from before! He wants to kill all of my babies!’
Blix braced herself for death. She didn’t know if she would pop back into her own mind if the body she was using was killed. It didn’t matter because surely she would find out soon. But wait. The patterned surface ceased its descent and darted forward, making landfall a long way ahead of the two ants on their way back home. The next few seconds revealed that the surface had indeed been the foot of a human. The rest of its form tore its way through the grass jungle at a speed Blix couldn’t have even flown in her youth, not easily anyway. She had never seen a human before, but she couldn’t deny that there was a certain grace to its form and movement. It was not the monster she had thought it was. In fact, it seemed to purposely avoid stepping on her. Why? It didn’t make any sense. Blix was grateful, but she was very confused. She wanted to hurry back to the colony and return to her body so she could reflect on what happened.
Our DNA makes us human. That much is irrefutable. The debate comes when we ask the question of what makes a person the unique individual he or she is. Spiritual people would say that the most important factor is a person’s spirit. Rational people disagree. As children, we are creatures of pure emotional desire. We want what we want, and to not get it is the end of the world. Experience teaches us to ignore what we want, and experience is simply the memory of having been through something.
Knowledge is also just a memory of having learned something. Memories make us who we are. That means that we are constantly becoming different people, and as time goes by, we are becoming more and more different from who we used to be. Sure, attributes we’re born with affect some of our experiences and catalyze the creation of certain memories, but it’s still the memories that are important.