Q

http://stuffnoonetoldme.blogspot.com

I’m telling you I’ve had ENOUGH. ENOUGH.

SCREW BEING POLITICALLY CORRECT AND TOLERANT OF ALL RELIGION. If I were an American I’ll buy a BB Gun and nail it to my door so they’ll just LEAVE. ME. ALONE.

So it’s like that. This Jehovah’s Witness woman comes along to my house about every month to propagate her beliefs or whatever. I’m not interested in the least bit, but I thought it was only fair to give her chance and stuff.

So the first time she came around, she got me to get my bible where she PROMPTLY STARTED TO NEGATE ALL MY CHRISTIAN INTERPRETATIONS OF THE BIBLE. I would have just told her to screw off, but it didn’t seem nice cause she was all for religion and, I dunno, I don’t want her to lay cult curses on me and destroy my chakra or whatever.

So I just stood there patronisingly and even asking her questions as she went on and on about her beliefs and how I’m WRONG WRONG WRONG and living a life of sin and delusion and how I’m all misled cause I think God’s name is Jesus when in fact it’s something else.

This is where I lost patience. Because my faith is very personal. In fact I don’t even fully agree with certain rules and interpretations of christian churches. I don’t like technicalising religion, and one thing I detest the most is when someone tells me that my beliefs are wrong.

You know what? I don’t care if God is called Jesus, or Ted or Max or Julia. I don’t give a shit, alright? God to me is personal – someone I construct the basis of my principles on, someone I share everything I don’t tell with, someone I always believe is there as a model for me to be a better person. Cliched, but true. He’s someone who embodies love and pure kindness.

Surely not someone who’d make me spend afternoons bothering others and imposing my restrictive beliefs on. It pisses me off that she’s telling me I’m wrong, and that the world is ending because of our sins and my delusion.

After the first visit, I told her I’m not in the least bit interested, that I have nothing against her religion but that I’m strongly rooted to my own. But she pressed on, in the most intrusive and irritating manner, befitting a salesman. Which she kinda is.

I hate it. Evangelism is fine, because you want to share His love. But she’s SELLING him. As a form of duty. Not because she cares if I’ll be saved or not. No. She’s doing it to strengthen her church, and because it is part of her belief to spread this religion. Which is true also, for Christianity. But personally I don’t believe in pressing it upon others. Hard core evangelism never seemed right for me.

I’ve been subject to so many scary evangelistic activities. Once in primary school, a group of us out doing a project were conned by 2 women to sit still for 2 hours as they preached about God. They did NOTHING but harden my stance against organized religion.

You know what true evangelism is? It is showing, yourself as an example, the power of God. To show how you effect positive change on others, how you give unconditionally, how you pick yourself up when you fall. You don’t just tell stories about parted seas and lambs and burning bushes and expect converts.

You inspire. Only when someone believes in you, can they then believe in your faith, what. Right? Back to the point.

So the annoying Jehovah’s was back again, and my dumbtard sis opened the door. The first thing she asked me was if I read the magazines about JWs the last time she came. I shouldn’t even be feeling guilty that I didn’t, but I did. Feel guilty, I mean. That I didn’t. The equally as annoying woman behind her went ‘Na chu lai.’ Okay, waait. I entertained your unfounded housecalls, accepted your magazines to assauge your feelings of failure at propaganda, and now you’re acting like it’s your prerogative and my honor to have you at my door telling me things I would rather Not, and wasting half my life away?

And now you’re being bloody RUDE about it? I’m sorry, it is not me who invited you over. It was your God. I was in such disbelief of her manners I actually said, ‘What!?’

she repeated in that bitch voice, ‘Na chu lai.’ Bitch I WILL NOT NA CHU LAI. I WANT TO CUT YOUR FACE SO BAD. So I said I don’t have it anymore, which is true as well. AND HELL GUESS WHAT THEY DID. They had the cheek to give me that ‘Aiyo tsk tsk how could you.’ thing. Like it was a huge inconsiderate sin for me to have not recognized the importance of their One True God and just tossed it aside.

YOU KNOW WHAT? I HAVE HAD ENOUGH OF YOUR RELIGIOUS, TERRITORIAL, TIME AND EMOTIONAL ASSAULTS. IF THEY COME. ONE. MORE. TIME, I’m complaining to the Town Council and I’ll have a restraining order put on that crowd.

Really, I don’t even care anymore that they’re a religious organization and that it’s mean for me to obstruct their desire to introduce their almighty GOD’S NAME IS NOT JESUS READ MY MAGAZINE SO YOU WILL STOP BEING DELUDED I AM ALMIGHTY JEHOVAHS WITNESSES AND YOU FAITHLESS ONE ARE NOTHING religion.

Screw off.

Can someone tell me WHY PEOPLE ARE NOW ABLE TO LIKE MY POSTS?

And if Facebook has now taken over the internet?

I have a phobia of multi-national organizations with the possible power of taking over the world, so right now the Like button is haunting me. Very, very much. I have this deeply rooted fear as of today towards the Like button. It instills in me the manic need for assurance in everything I do.

‘I think I’m going to eat some chips.. but will people Like that? What if I eat chips and no one Likes it? Won’t that make me seem like a loser?’

‘Should I do my Econs or Math? Which is likely to attract more Likes from everyone?’

‘WHAT SHOULD I WEAR WHAT SHOULD I WEAR I need to wear something that will garner many many Likes! Oh God if she gets more Likes then me I’ll end my life.’

Children are going to grow up thinking everything they do is a measure to whether they are Liked or not. Everything you say, do, join, post, eat, wear, shit is subject to Liking (and therefore the lack of Liking). The purpose of our actions will cease to benefit us, but rather be a series of what we deem ‘Like-able’ by everyone else. What. The. Shit.

I do not Like this. At all. IS LOVIN’ WHAT YOU WANT FACEBOOK? IS IT REALLY? ARE YOU MASKING YOUR ATTEMPTS AT SOWING DISCORD AMONGST THE HARMONIOUS AND ESTEEM-STABLE CROWD BY PUTTING EVERY ACTION INTO A LIKE-ABLE/DISLIKE-ABLE SPOTLIGHT.

And none of you mofos touch that Like button up there, I swear. Do. Not.

I. WILL. NOT. OD. ON. CAFFEINE. EVER AGAIN.

Last night was TERROR reincarnated, concentrated into 7 hours of consternation. Seriously it was the most fitful, distressing night I’ve had for AGES. K it happened back at Starbucks where I got a mocha frappe grande.. It’s just a freaking mocha frappe! But my system’s pretty sensitive to caffeine so I’ll usually get this weird lightheaded brain high, the level depending on the dosage. Usually Starbucks just makes me a little jittery and speak weird and hallucinate a little, nothing much. So, yeah it was like that yesterday, and with G as my witness I did go a bit bonkers. Also, bad bad idea to drink just as I’m about to write cause it came out as a huge mothersplash of randomness and it sounded as BONKERS as I was.

But it wore off, and Becky Gloria Xin and I managed to have dinner without combustion on anyone’s part. Later on Xin and I found our way into VCH to watch Emily of Emerald Hill, (hour half monologue by Margaret Chan and her Peranakan life). Surprisingly not STABMYEYESOUT worthy, considering the most horror inducing scripts I’ve ever done were by Stella Kon. But secretly I think it was Marg Chan’s portrayal that did not make it as painful as it would have. Mm, AND YES the two. gay. guys. touching. And I was all homg you’re gay you’re touching it’s so fascinating BUT PLEASE NOT HERE kthnxbai.

And then yes anyway I COULDN’T SLEEP. Which is pretty rare so FINALLY at about 1.30am I finally managed to somehow sleep I DON’T EVEN KNOW IF I CAN CALL IT SLEEPING PLSKLOL. It was like, I’ll have a random series of VERY. VIVID. DREAMS, with plotlines hollywood worthy and mothercore vivid and I’ll wake up and the whole time my brain will be going through this monologue in superspeed and spewing absolute nonsense.

Like, I’ll dream about being a ninja, then I’ll wake up and THIS is going through my head, I SWEAR:ohmygoddidijustdreamiwasaninjathatissocoolandwhatthehellthesamuraiswordsandthestardiscsbut
wherecanigettheminreallifeitslikesoimpossiblemaybetheyhaveitinfuckingorchardrdnahcan’tbeorchardhaslikesexshop
sandlikewtfhowdoievenknowthisyesimustgotoorchardsoonyesyeswithacrazymotheradogandholyshitiwantadogso
badlyamitalkingtomyselfyesiamnoshitstopyourescaringmewhatsthetimewhatthehellwhatsgoingonamideadamimad
ohgodohmanohgodohmanimgoingcrazyerthanialreadyamsomeonepleasehelpmeimgonnadieofinsanityohgod
ohman…

and this will go on until my brain shuts down and i’ll drift off into semi-consciousness and have another weirdass dream and i’ll wake up and have an hour long asylum worthy monologue to myself AND REPEAT. Like, at every hour interval? And ohmygatz it hasn’t worn off yet I’M GOING MAD.