i failed in every way


guys listen im so sorry so at 6pm i was like “oh ill take a nap” and so i set my alarm for 8:45 and went to sleep but iT WAS SET FOR 8:45 AM

anyway the wingding says



this is set during the cramspmasmp party btw and guess who got drunk lol

PROVE THEM WRONG! Yes, I was pregnant in the first picture. I gained 80 pounds in my 9 months of growing a tiny human.

For any mommies that need some extra motivation this week- it took me almost 2 years for me to change my body composition.

The picture on the left is 6 days before I had my son- he will turn 2 next Saturday 🤗 the second picture was about 2 weeks ago. Change takes time but don’t give up!

I promise you I know every way to fail- but it takes only one time to succeed to change your life. 💙💙💙

Seven years ago, when Em was 4 months old, I said “enough”. I was ready to take off the baby weight and tired of rocking maternity clothes. I did well for about 2 weeks and the fell off the wagon. I failed. When Em was 9 months, I said, “enough”. I did well for 1 month and then fell off the wagon. I failed. When Em was 1 ½ years old, I said “enough”. But this time was different. Instead of worrying about failing since that had been my track record, I said, “as long as you don’t quit… you can’t fail!” Sometimes we have to shift our mindset and look at failure as a chance to grow and learn. Every day, I look at ways to fail forward and keep growing as a person.

On Gnostic Atheism

henricarence says:

How do you “know” there is no God? And also, are you saying that agnostics are just a kind of atheist? And if so, an atheist that is not agnostic must then claim that there is no God, and in that way, believe that there is no God. What do you think?

Your first question deserves a far more elaborate reply than the one I’m about to give you, but fret not, you can purchase my ebook when it’s available for sale and get your answer. In brief, there are a number of ways I can answer that question. 

I can say either a) since I know that every argument for god to date fails in one way or another, I also know that there’s no god; the tacit assumption I’m making is that for every article of knowledge, there’s some way of showing that it’s real and that’s setting aside the responsibility of showing that you know what you say you know; b) since the probability of there being a god is negligible, I know that there’s no god; if you think that’s dubious, then you’d need to deal with S5 system of modal logic–the same system Alvin Plantinga makes use of to argue the exact opposite: he concludes that god exists because it is probable that god necessarily exists, and this setting aside the dubious nature of his probability; c) there’s simply no evidence for god and therefore, I know that god doesn’t exist; implicit in this conclusion is the thought that were a god to exist, there would be corresponding evidence, i.e., if Jesus was god, the historical Jesus and the Jesus of the Gospels would be both consistent and equivalent; alas, they are neither. d) This is my preferred route: I agree with ©, but further, there’s actually evidence against god! There’s plenty of it. 

For starters, the claim to exclusive truth, the claim at the heart of Christianity and Islam, is a byproduct of historical and anthropological development–the latter of these I further break down into cultural and sociopolitical components. So if you cannot show that the claim of exclusive truth is true to the religion’s original form, assuming you can even locate that, then the claim developed much later. Also, if you can trace changes in the religion, changes in doctrine, in rituals, and so on, then you may find that this religion has a human-made origin and therefore, was not divinely inspired. Since gods are always tied to some religion, organized or not, gods don’t exist. In other words, if I trace Christianity’s history and find, like many others have, that it’s intimately connected to Judaism, and I find, as many others have found, that Judaism did not start out as a monotheistic religion, but rather as a polytheistic religion featuring a pantheon of four gods that included Yahweh, then I have also shown that Yahweh doesn’t exist. Monotheism is itself a later development, so it could not have been that god commanded that his people worship him and only him; it’s that sociopolitical and cultural pressures led to fissions in the once homogeneous group identity and from this, different groups preferred different gods in the pantheon and of these groups, some would claim that their god was the superior or true god. We see this same development in Hinduism earlier than we do in Judaism.

We can discuss eschatology and other specifics in doctrine, e.g., soteriology. We can discuss the transition from adoptionist Christology to high Christology. With regards to eschatology, we can trace the modern conception of hell, demons with pitchforks and all, and some guy named Dante will undoubtedly come up. What will also come up is Zoroastrian demonology and much older concepts like the Narakas and the Diyu. Sheol and Hell will come up as well, and anyone who isn’t overly invested in biblical consistency will see that these two places aren’t the same. Hell, as we’ve come to think of it, is not mentioned in the Jewish Bible at all.

If you think that misses the mark, then I can apply this same method to religion in general. Religion is an anthropological phenomenon that can’t be understood apart from culture. Feuerbach said “theology is anthropology.” He’s absolutely correct. If you want to argue that what’s emblematic about religion is rituals, burial rites, and belief in the supernatural, you can trace that historically and find corresponding psychological behaviors resulting in group identity and loss of self. And you will also find cognitive biases that led to agency over-detection. A lot of scholars and everyday people think that gods, especially early on, were created in response to what our ancestors couldn’t understand. 

Furthermore, these gods are the result of faulty reasoning, in particular the application of teleology to natural phenomenon. Lightning strikes; who is behind this? They reasoned that a god willed the lightning to strike. The waves strike the land and before we know it, there’s a flood. Who did this? There must be a god, an agent exponentially more powerful than an average person. Even the modern monotheist disregards these deities. They also disregard a responsible tracing of their own religion’s history, one that will lead to the same conclusion: their god doesn’t exist. This is partly why I know there’s no god. I can talk about science, in particularly modern cosmology and theoretical physics; I can throw doubt on theories of causation and the metaphysics underlying arguments like the KCA and Aquinas’ Cosmological arguments. I do all of this in my upcoming ebook.

An agnostic is a person without knowledge. So an agnostic can be a theist or an atheist. An agnostic theist will be a Christian who doesn’t claim to know that Yahweh exists. An agnostic atheist will be a non-believer who doesn’t claim to know that there’s no god. Regardless, this isn’t that they say they believe there’s no god. With regards to gods, they lack belief. Like knowledge, belief is something you either posses or do not possess. 

A gnostic atheist does not have that particular belief, but does have knowledge; an agnostic atheist does not have that belief but does not have knowledge or, at the very least, does not claim to have it. A gnostic theist does have this particular belief and claims, through faith or some other means, to have knowledge; an agnostic theist does have this belief, but doesn’t have knowledge. I have knowledge about my past, about my family, about my friends, about different topics. I do not have knowledge about other universes, life on other planets, and about people I’ve never met (other than articles that occur to commonsense, e.g., the people I never met have a respiratory system and a brain). I do not have belief in gods, ghosts, reptilians, and angels. I do have beliefs in humanity, i.e., a faith in humanity, life on other planets, and the existence of other universes. If belief and knowledge are something you claim to have, then they’re also something you can lack. With regards to gods, I lack belief.

Notice how this isn’t even a matter of discussion when it comes to ghosts or even angels and demons. No one claims that I believe that there are no ghosts or that I believe that there are no angels and demons. They are content with the language I use with regards to these lesser spiritual entities. When god is the topic, suddenly the theist wants to challenge what the atheist says. What they’re really attempting to do is put the two on a level playing field and perhaps, reduce atheism to a matter of faith. I’ve just showed you that atheism can be and, to my mind, should be far from that. I don’t have a belief that there’s no gods; nor do I have a different faith from the believer–one that concludes that there are no gods. I lack the belief a believer claims to have. Furthermore, I have a knowledge that believers clearly lack, for if they had it, they wouldn’t believe.


Listen. I don’t actually expect anybody to read these little write-ups of mine. I write them for a lot of reasons; to blow off steam, to make myself laugh, to feel superior in some totally self-contained way, to engaged in some form of intercourse with an otherwise intangible but much beloved object. But sometimes, some special times, I find myself entangled with an absolutely loathsome, irredeemable piece of fucking nothing that I can’t forget about, maybe won’t forget about, in my shitty, clingy, mentally ill fashion.

DREAMCATCHER is such a movie.

I saw DREAMCATCHER in theaters in 2003, absolutely expecting a benignly generic Stephen King potboiler that I would quickly forget. It has a million recognizable stars both before and behind the camera, received a legit theatrical release, and, you know…I mean, it seemed like it SHOULD be substantially better than, say, THINNER. My intuition failed me in every possible way, and I have failed to forget it to this day. And even stranger, as far as I know, people do not discuss DREAMCATCHER. It certainly didn’t succeed, but it also didn’t garner the ISHTAR-type notoriety that I now believe to be deserved. The film, adapted from a King novel by beloved screenwriter William Goldman (of PRINCESS BRIDE and MARATHON MAN and BUTCH CASSIDY fame), and directed by Lawrence Kasdan (mainly a writer contributing to EMPIRE STRIKES BACK and RAIDERS OF THE LOST ARK), features a startling ensemble cast with names ranging from Morgan Freeman to Donnie Wahlberg. No number of snowy, sparkly posters for this critical and mostly-financial failure could begin to suggest to you what these people actually DO in this movie–at least, not in public.

Kasdan’s two hour and fourteen minute behemoth takes its indulgent time introducing you to–actually, let me cut to the chase. The DREAMCATCHER story is structured exactly like Stephen King’s more popular IT. A group of estranged pals are prompted by psychic signals to meet back up and revisit strange events from their shared adolescence, in exactly the same town of Derry, ME where the events of IT transpire. One of the few, but very important differences present in DREAMCATCHER is that the young cast here does not experience the agony and nausea of blossoming hetero puberty. DREAMCATCHER has an all-male cast, and the screen time taken up by female performers in this epic amounts to the proverbial blink of an eye. No one in DREAMCATCHER is other than insistently straight, but…well, you’ll see.

A lengthy introduction smooshes us up against the main characters, a group of variously dysfunctional dudes burdened with precognitive abilities that they attribute to the gang’s missing member, a developmentally disabled young man named Duddits. One of many flashbacks introduces us to this character by way of a kind off locker room beatoff fantasy, in which Duddits is ensnared by two hunky jocks who have stripped him almost nude and are trying to force him into eating some shit they found somewhere. The DREAMCATCHER gang interrupts this congress, cradling Duddits and tenderly singing him torch songs, and are collectively rewarded with psychic powers and future superheroic obligations. The latter are forecast by flashbacks in which Duddits warns the group to watch out for…Mister Gay. I mean, this will turn out to be a mispronunciation of something more sinister, but also…well, again, you’ll see.

(There is no especially good reason for this to be called DREAMCATCHER so don’t worry about it)

So anyway, in order to cope with their adult-times psychic disturbances, the buddies all get together at a snowbound cabin to catch up and settle up with their memories. No sooner do they start defensively talking about sex with women in this manly rural setting, than a frostbitten stranger arrives and starts farting up a storm. Said farting is so horrific that they put the man to bed, whereupon he promptly shits out a vicious monster that I can only properly explain is a boner with a gaping pussy on the end of it. After it multiplies and unceremoniously dispatches some of the established characters, generally by latching onto their cockandballses orally and thrashing about, one of the survivors (Damian Lewis) is suddenly psychically possessed by a fruity british-sounding entity called “Mister Gray”–an infantile code for the fact that the stereotypical “grays” are invading our planet and our assholes en masse. That’s right, Stephen King has elevated the idea of the anal probe to a full-on global rape fantasy starring spermy-looking monsters that our heroes seriously refer to as “shit weasels”. 

This is all very DELIVERANCE-y, with the cast’s tenuous experiment with intimacy tainted by a paranoid vision of anal violation and male pregnancy. You’d think this would be more than enough to land DREAMCATCHER firmly in the realm of the most witlessly awful movies produced by Hollywood in recent memory. It’s not. No insult is ever enough for DREAMCATCHER. Just as you’ve gotten used to this scatalogical straight guy nightmare about dudely closeness, things take a turn for the worse. Our remaining hero (the great and very strange) Thomas Jane is evacuated from this male bonding session by none other than Morgan Freeman, a black ops military man who absconds with him in a helicopter and plops him down in an internment camp full of locals infected and/or infested by the aforementioned shit weasels. 

Well, to be more particular, Morgan Freeman is a REGULAR military officer, who is ALSO secretly a black ops elite guy. Who just goes on to do regular authoritative things that either a regular general OR a black ops commander would do. SO WHY THE FUCK DO I CARE ABOUT HIS SECRET ELITE BLACK OPS THINGS ok never mind. The main thing of Morgan Freeman, as Thomas Jane so concisely and suddenly puts it, is that he “is crazy from hunting aliens for 25 years!” The first and last coherent thing that Morgan Freeman says is to his platonic life partner, the inexplicably adoring fighter pilot Tom Sizemore. “You and I are on the same page,” Freeman says, perfectly understandably…and then, as if this were NOT perfectly understandable, he leans in and huskily intones, ”That is, we’re pissing in the same latrine.”  Any experienced reader of Stephen King knows that his standard tactic for relating to the hoi polloi is to compare anything you can think of to pissing and shitting, just in case other basic facts of life are not familiar enough, just in case your whole entire movie isn’t already about shitting–or even if it is, as in the case of DREAMCATCHER. Anyway, after this point, every single thing Morgan Freeman says is a complete waste of the space between your ears. After the first word or two of any given line, I fucking defy you to follow and understand whatever type of Pepperidge Farm Andy Rooney bullshit he is trying to say in this movie.

Meanwhile, for totally no acceptable reason at all, Freeman’s loving retainer Tom Sizemore readily accepts Tom Jane’s story about how anal aliens are taking over the universe and our only hope is his friend with Down’s Syndrome from childhood. As these two race to Massachusetts to retrieve Duddits before Mister Gray/Gay can get to him, DREAMCATCHER unveils one of its other very special features. Throughout the latter two thirds of the movie, the plot is shoved along by various characters delivering extraordinarily long monologues, really just to themselves, about what has been happening in the previous reels of the film. The movie is so long and convoluted that this is almost reasonable, but when your characters are seriously doing something that Adam West’s Batman used to do to be funny…you might have a problem.

Although, everywhere you look in DREAMCATCHER, there is a problem. From the awful romper room music, the bizarre stings that accompany falling snowflakes or drawstring hoods, the shockingly awful catchphrases the come out of every single character’s mouth (i.e. “This fuckeree is turning into a real fuckeroh!”), there is absolutely no escape from this movie’s consummate badness. It reaches a peak, though, when we find Duddits at his mom’s house; Donnie Wahlberg plays this sickly, slurring Forrest Gump character, for which someone should have been arrested. If this condescending, unreasonable romanticization of pathology doesn’t make you uncomfortable, nothing will. Except, perhaps, the fact that Duddits has magical powers from outer space. That’s right, he is promptly put in conflict with Mister Gay, who launches out of his host’s body into his final form, and then both of them engage in an “extra terrestrial battle” that really just resembles a couple of salamanders desperately humping under a blanket for several minutes. At the conclusion of this intergalactic coitus, when the day is won by Duddits, Tom Jane just loudly says hello to his newly de-possessed friend–and then THAT’S THE END OF THE MOVIE. More than two grueling hours have come to no particular conclusion: no resolution of the military situation, no coping with the many Americans trapped in secret concentration camps, no visiting the graves of fallen characters. Jane more or less says “hey, how’s it going!”, and that is the end of that.

Even now that I’ve shat all this out, having seen the movie several times, and thought about it regularly and tormentedly for thirteen years, this still doesn’t feel like enough. As I’ve told many unhappy people over many years, you can never really know what this is like until you see it. Literally every sight and sound in this movie deserves to be addressed for its failings, and yet I just can’t bring myself to inflict that beat sheet on Tumblr. And I still don’t feel like I’ve gotten it all off my chest. I may have to write a book about this to ever be over it. Pray for me. And pray for yourselves.

I think maybe it’s a combination of various chips. Like, it’s a bit of the, like, Child Star and He’s Not Going to Make It Beyond That chip. There were a lot of people nearing the end of [Potter] that said I wouldn’t have a career, that child stars are always doomed to fail. The way I see it, every single film I make, and every year I keep doing it, it’s like proving them wrong for another year. The feeling of having shown someone to be idiotic in their opinion, when it’s about you and negative, that never gets old. So I’ll keep that chip.
Imagine being the only thing Cas still prays about...

“What are you doing here?” you asked him as you came around the side of the bench.

He didn’t look at you, only continued searching the scene with his eyes as if he was looking for the answers there in the park. You sat down close next to him, gently putting your hand on his leg.

“Cas?” You were greeted with more silence still, though he turned his eyes from the greenery to your hand resting on his knee. You took in his clasped hands. “I didn’t know you still prayed,” you said quietly, 

He finally turned his eyes to you, so clear and blue usually but now looking like stormy waters. “I only pray for you. I’ve failed you in every other way… I can’t save you but maybe God can.” His deep voice was quiet and laced with sadness, sounding close to breaking.

Tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him, a broken angel. You leaned in and gently placed a kiss on his lips.