Orson Scott Card

The first time I read Orson Scott Card's Ender's Game was back in high school. At the time, I enjoyed the book, but as my worldview was still quite intact I had no real need to pick up on the occasional hints at Card's deep understanding of philosophy and human nature. This past spring, though, I heard the last couple chapters again on audiobook. I broke down sobbing. Here, at last, was an author who got it. Someone who knew my struggles for what they were, and validated my craving for inherent meaning in intelligence and human life without necessitating an extrinsic force. This summer, reading Card has been a therapy unlike anything else.

On Bars

I'm not quite sure what this post is about. Maybe it's about how last night, I met a girl who might, maybe, be me in a few years. She's the same age but somehow managed to hit the end while she was still living at home (an unthinkable feat in my mind). She was able to witness that, yes, it sucks, it destroys your world. And she was able to look at me and say—you can do it. You can put your life back together. You'll be ok.

Maybe this post is about how we then went to a bar with a group of friends. It was my first time in a bar, though of course I didn't drink. So maybe that's what this post is about—that over the last month, I've embraced the fact that I will never be able to just leave the traditions; that it's something I love too much and that has had too profound of an influence upon me to be able to walk away. Is it possible to participate in the church without advocating? It's been deeply instilled in me that no, this is inherently impossible. There are so many places I don't belong…