But last week, I took step to cut myself off of one of those addictions.

And no, I didn’t get rid of any of my three TiVos. Aren’t fucking kidding me?!

One of the many sweet things I got for my birthday was an iPod Touch from Mr. Bee.

Mr. Bee and I are total whores when it comes to shiny new electronics and ever since Mr. Bee scored an iPhone through work, I’ve been drooling over them. Since AT&T wanted to charge me $300 (now $400) more than the average Joe just because I have a 10 months left on my contract, I quite politely asked them to fuck themselves and told Mr. Bee that I would settle for an iPod Touch.

Well, I did say it nicer than that, believe me!

After getting the Touch all set up, I’ve been playing with it non-stop. In fact, most of my internet surfing is now done with my new iPod (as evident by all the horrible typos and misspellings on my Facebook status updates – stupid auto correct!).

Once I surfaced for air from my new toy, I realized that having my Blackberry AND the new iPod was kind of redundant. I can get email on both, have calendars and contact information on both and even surf the internet on both (but it’s sooo much easier on the iPod than my Crackberry).

I should just get rid of the data plan on my Blackberry, right? Well, the only hitch is that the iPod requires a wireless connection, which means that…

I can’t check my email every five seconds when I’m gone from the house GASP!! (…unless I hunt down some free WiFi somewhere, of course, but that’s neither here nor there…)

To be honest, at first the thought of not being able to be connected 24/7 was kind of frightening. Don’t ask me why, I just like being connected.

But then I did a dry-run and realized that, during any given day, the only emails I get are emails from Nigerian princes and approximately 812 Facebook Notifications. Maybe it *isn’t* so necessary for me to check emails while I drive, while I shop, while I poop in a public bathroom…

So the data plan is gone and my obsession with iPhone apps is going strong.

Those Nigerian princes will just have to wait until I get home for a response to their tempting offers.

Song title: Advances In Modern Technology by A.f.i.

Today I turn thirty.

A few years ago, I might have looked at turning the big 3-0 as this big, daunting (and maybe just a little bit scary) event that I would try to prevent as hard as I could. Shockingly, nothing I seemed to do appeared to have any impact. Whodathunk?

But now, as I prepare for tomorrow’s big shindig, I’ve been reflecting on the last decade and looking forward to what the next decade has to offer.

In my early twenties, I was all about college. I was in a nerdy, quiet dorm at The University where, instead of binge drinking like most of my peers, we did things like play Hearts and go to the theater. (I think I saw Rent, Cabaret and The Phantom of the Opera that year.) I had my first REAL boyfriend and my first real heartbreak. But I also got my first real kick in the pants that gave me the strength to know I deserved a whole hell of a lot better than what he had to offer.

My life was all about making new friends, struggling to keep the ones I had and, somewhere in between, trying to figure out who I was (all while testing out the strength of my liver from time to time).

By the time I started law school, I had already had my heart crushed/stomped/peed on for a second time. But as density destiny would have it, it was actually during the recovery of that relationship that my relationship with Mr. Bee blossomed (so he’s a rebound – shut up). Who would’ve guessed that two years earlier I had unknowingly met the man who would be my husband and the father of my child(ren?) at some random house party in Bellevue?

As my mid-twenties approached, I was busy trying to figure out what I should spend the “rest of my life” doing as a career, all the while still not quite having a complete grasp on who I wanted to be. 2004 ended up being quite the eventful year and, truth be told, I find it amazing that I didn’t have some major breakdowns along the way…

I remember hearing from someone that year that if individual suffers from 3-4 significant events (good or bad) in one year, it could result in some real psychological trauma. In 2003/04, I got engaged, became a first-time home owner with Mr. Bee (who was Fiance Bee at the time), started my own small business, Mr. Bee was diagnosed with his liver disease, my best friend/sister moved to England for three four years, my favorite aunt was diagnosed with a rare form of late-stage cancer (and passed away later that year), Mr. Bee was diagnosed with high-level of pre-cancerous cells in his large intestine resulting in a full collectomy (right before our wedding!), had law school finals to be followed up with graduation and then, finally, phew, got married (and had a whole bunch of fun drama as a result of that as well – we’ll talk about that some other time).

So let’s just say that my mid-twenties were a little rough. But luckily, no multiple personalities seemed to have developed as a result, so I think we’re good!

And as the song says, first comes love, then comes marriage and, by the time I turned 28, my sweet little Baby Bee had made herself at home in the baby carriage. Even with all the events and life-changes that happened in my mid-twenties, as my fellow mommies can attest to, nothing changed my life as much as becoming a mother.

As I creep ever slowly in to my thirties, getting older doesn’t feel as scary as I once thought it would. Even over these last few weeks, I feel like a decade’s worth of learning and growing and doubting has finally eased in to a sense of acceptance. Just the other week, I started a post all about how I have weight issues based on the fact that when I was in high school, I weighed 30 pounds less than I do now. But also when I was in high school, I was ridiculously thin and had to deal with people accusing me of being anorexic and whatnot.

But over the last week, something has changed. I came to a realization that, yeah, I don’t look like I did in high school and you know what? Who the hell cares?! Just like with wedding planning, people can’t see what you haven’t done. They aren’t comparing your banquet chairs with the five other options you had because (1) they don’t give a shit, and (2) they have never seen those options.

Most of my friends now haven’t seen me at 115 pounds and, honestly, I’d probably look pretty freakish if I did weigh that now. I realized that life is too short to not wear that cute bikini at the Gap that only cost $15. Who cares if people see my stretch marks or that I don’t have my high school abs-of-steel anymore?! What’s more important is thinking that five years down the road, I could be looking back at photos thinking that I was a fool for not realizing what I had to flaunt.

And, God dammit, I want to flaunt it.

So while I’ll miss the care-free days of little to no responsibility, of staying up until 5 o’clock in the morning goofing around with friends, of deciding to drive all the way to Yakima just to hang out with some silly boys for 2 hours…I already know that I won’t miss the uncertainty of what my future holds, of wondering if I was every going to meet “Mr. Right”, of questioning everything about myself and my friends and being the most insecure I have ever been.

While some people make Resolutions every year at New Year’s, I’ll try to be a bit more realistic and make my Resolutions only once per decade. I’m going to be selfish and send myself some birthday wishes on my big day:

May my thirties wash away any self-doubt, fears
and jealousy that only make me weak and ugly.

May I spend the next ten years learning to be
a better wife, mother, but, most importantly, person.

May all my insecurities be replaced with the acceptance
of the things I can’t change and
the courage to change the things I can and/or want to.

May the person I will be in my thirties
be the person I always dreamed of being in my twenties.

We grow neither better or worse as we get old, but more like ourselves.
~ May L. Becker

With all that being said, I hope y’all have a much more relaxing day than mine, since I’ll be running around crazy preparing for our big 80’s themed poker rally and…wait for it…roller skating party! That’s right, Hive. Mama Bee rented out a local roller rink for my 30th Birthday Party!! There will surely be a ton of photos from the party because, let’s be honest, this party is going to be totally rad.

Song title: My Next Thirty Years by Phil Vassar

My blog can now be found at www.momtobee.com!!

I won’t take down the blogspot blog right away, but I’ll probably start posting the new stuff on the new Mom to Bee.

I’m still trying to figure out Wordpress (seriously thinking about jamming a fondue fork in to my right eye), so give me a little slack when it comes to random retardedness on the new site.

Start updating your reader subscriptions now!

Song title: Big Time Operator by Big Bad Voodoo Daddy

It wasn’t until recently that I realized that I live within my own closet.

No, I’m not gay.

But I have been hiding. Hiding from friends who might not want to be such if they knew. Hiding from persecution of my beliefs.

Because I do not believe in God.

There. I said it. I’m supposed to feel better now, right? Damn.

Okay, I’m guessing you all probably want more on the topic…

First of all, I feel the need to explain that I consider myself an agnostic, which means that I’m really just not religious/spiritual/etc. (versus flat out not believing there is a god).

Here is my view of the difference between Religious Folk v. Atheists v. Agnostics:
The Christian/God-Believer says, “Yes there is a God.”
The Atheist says, “No, there is no God.”
Agnostic just shrugs and says, “Eh?”

Okay, so technically an Atheist either (1) denies the existence of God, or (2) literally is non-theist or simply lacking a belief in God without actively denying God’s existence.

I personally prefer to consider myself an Agnostic non-theist. It is a belief related to the existence or non-existence of God and most agnostics believe that we (collectively) do not have any way of knowing whether a god (or gods) exist. Because there is no way for you or me to prove (or disprove) a god’s existence, then why fret over it. Eventually, maybe, I’ll find out but until then, I might as well just enjoy life (and football on Sundays).

Speaking of Sundays, I think my agnosticism started early in my life. My mom was never big in to going to church, but Dad took Sissy and I practically every Sunday. My only memories of church was that is was insanely boring and had creepy old people who insisted on talking to me.

But I did like the singing. Singing is good.

At 15 years of age, Dad let us make the decision of whether we wanted to keep going to church with him every Sunday or stay home. I’m pretty sure my reasoning was something like: “hmmm…go to boring church or sleep in? yeah, no brainer, dude.”

I might have thrown in a “Could church *be* more boring?” Give me a brake, Friends was big that year and I’ve always admired Ms. Chanadaler Bong. (You know you love him, too.)

In discussing this further with Sissy and Mr. Bee, I realized that besides just finding church unappealing, I really felt out of place. Just like when homosexual people say that they just felt “different” growing up, that’s exactly how I felt when I was at church. I’d be hanging out with the kids in youth group and thinking to myself, “Weird. They’re all, like, religious and whatnot…”

Since quitting church, God/religion/faith has never played a big role in my life. Well, I guess it didn’t really play a big part in my life beforehand either (besides church on Sundays). Since 15, I’ve never attended church. I didn’t get married at a church. In fact, our biggest requirement of an officiant for our wedding was that the “G” word not be mentioned. Baby Bee has not been baptised (and I don’t even know if I was, to be honest).

One of the reason I wanted to “come out of the closet” on my blog is because I think that people who are religious don’t realize how persecuted non-believers are. While I’ve been lucky enough in my adult life to find a spouse and close friends that share my beliefs, it hasn’t always been that way. I was already suffering discrimination for my beliefs by junior year of high school. I vividly remember being told by friends in high school that, unfortunately, I would be burning in eternal hellfire since I didn’t believe in God. Now, my friends were not happy about the turn of events for my eternal soul, but felt the need to declare my fate none-the-less. All this despite the fact that I lived just about the most pious lifestyle a teenager has ever lived (save for Joan of Arc, maybe). I didn’t even drink alcohol until my 21st birthday! AND I believed that sex should be saved for marriage. Okay, my opinion on that one changed as I got older…

As a non-believer, you get put in to this “box” by “normal” people. We must be sinners, immoral, untrustworthy, arrogant, hypocritical, self-righteous and (my personal favorite) liberal infidels. Some people ask, “Well, without the Bible/God, what authority do you accept as a guide to conduct?” Well, first of all, common sense is good. Just because I wasn’t raised in with overly-religious parents doesn’t mean that I grew up in a hedonistic sin-filled home. I grew up with rules…LOTS of rules. Seriously. Just because God doesn’t play a role in my life, doesn’t mean that I don’t have compassion for others or the ability to tell right from wrong.

But the persecution of non-believers doesn’t just stop with the assumption that you are a sinner with no moral compass. Even as I sit on my couch typing this with America’s Next Top Model playing in the background, one of the models declares that it’s unfair that a certain model won a prize that will feature Christmas accessories because “she’s hates holidays. She’s an atheist. I love Christmas! I’d love to do [the photo shoot]!” Just because someone is atheist or agnostic doesn’t mean they don’t like (or shouldn’t) celebrate holidays. For the record, I LOOOOVE Christmas. I just look at it as a time to celebrate family and friends, and most importantly, presents (kidding! Screw the family and friends; just give me stuff).

Being a non-believer isn’t easy. I’ll always remember four and a half years ago when I found out that Mr. Bee had pre-cancerous growths, had to have a full colectomy, AND found out that he has a degenerative, un-curable liver disease. One of the first things I thought was “this would be so much easier to deal with if I believed in God.” Having faith in someone/something that had a master plan or who could make everything better if I just prayed hard enough would have maybe made the situation a little easier to deal with. But I didn’t have any of that. I just had to sit with the realization that my fiancée (now my husband) might develop cancer and may (still) require a liver transplant. I had nothing to lean on but myself. And I think I’m a stronger person now because of it. At least I hope I am.

I have to be supportive/accepting of all religions, simply because I am in the minority. A 2001 survey found 15% of the adult population in the United States have no religious affiliation, still significantly less than in other postindustrial countries such as United Kingdom (44%) and Sweden (69%). The other 85% of the U.S. just think non-believers are jerks when we point out the “so help me Gods,” “under Gods,” and “In god we trusts” that are everywhere in our society. I get that our country was founded under those ideals, but let’s not forget that it was also founded while escaping from religious persecution.

In 2006, the University of Minnesota conducted a poll that found that despite an increasing acceptance of religious diversity, atheists were generally distrusted by other Americans, who rated them below Muslims, recent immigrants and other minority groups in “sharing their vision of American society”. They also associated atheists with undesirable attributes such as criminal behavior, rampant materialism, and cultural elitism. When participants were asked whether they agreed with the statement, “I would disapprove if my child wanted to marry a member of this group,” atheists again led minorities, with 48 percent disapproval. “I know atheists aren’t studied that much as a sociological group, but I guess atheists are one of the last groups remaining that it’s still socially acceptable to hate.”

So you might understand why “coming out of the closet” was a difficult decision for me to make.

So there it is. I’m not religious.

Am I ready for the consequences? I’ve weighed the risks: I’m sure not everyone will accept me for who I am. I’m sure someone out there will be offended at my religious views and vice versa.

But please don’t think we can’t be friends because we have differing views on one aspect of our lives. We may have different schedules on Sunday and most likely are voting for different presidential candidates, but isn’t there more to life?

Like television?

Song title: Losing My Religion by R.E.M.