What about love part 2

Over the past weeks, I’ve been questioning my agnostic belief.

I thought I believed in something not God, but I didn’t know what it was.

I didn’t want to enter the crazy Christian faith, it would ruin me. My grandmother, who just turned 80, is Pentecostal and she used to have so many different Christian faiths before when she remarried five more times. She also used to be a vegan or vegetarian, and at this point she’s forgotten what that diet was like. But at this point, she wants to shove Jesus down my throat and make me pray in front of my food, while also making me watch crappy Hallmark movies. She doesn’t even remember the day she screamed at me for not coming with her to the beach and her dreadful husband number six.

I couldn’t tell her, I wasn’t feeling well due to the curse.

I have a friend who is also trying to get me Saved, trying to get me to believe in the power of God. She recently got into a fight with my best friend from WTC because of an incident I’d rather not explain or get involved in, but right now, they’re not talking to each other. They had a misunderstanding and both of them don’t want to talk it out, which means by the time I’m 30, which will be in a matter of months, there will be one less person celebrating with me.

My best friend from WTC said this friend of mine was not a Christian because of everything she yelled at her about, in her own house. The Christian friend of ours is a walking contradiction, as most Christian Mormons and Pentecostals are.

But here’s my issue. I’m also a walking contradiction and I don’t know what to believe.

I don’t want to be a Mormon or Pentecostal. I don’t want to be forced to pray before I eat and I don’t want to wear my hair so long it reaches all the way down to my butt. I really don’t like wearing my hair that long. I love getting haircuts at Great Clips.

I don’t want to blackmail God like I did in 2015, but when I pray, I don’t want to sound stupid. Honestly, I don’t even know the Lord’s Prayer, Our Father, or Hail Mary. I know some of the words, but I don’t know all of them.

I still want to engage in sexual pleasures with my partner without feeling guilty that I haven’t saved myself before marriage. I don’t want to say, “I’m a Christian now, sweetie, so you are not allowed to do anything sexual with me until we’re married.” I told him after a year of dating we were ready, and I don’t want to take that away from him. That would be cruel for us both.

I don’t want to treat my grandmother like a Saint, like she wants me and everyone that knows her to. She’s my grandma, not my mother, and I see my mom as the voice of reason, not her. Mom and I are closer than I am with my only grandparent alive.

I would proudly love to go to a few church services a month, but as long as my parents say it’s ok and as long as the preacher or pastor doesn’t scream in my face like an angry Hitler. That is the one thing I hate most about the Pentecostal faith.

And I don’t like gospel choirs going crazy with their “Hallelujah” songs. The only version of “Hallelujah” that I like is the song Fall Out Boy does called “Hum Hallelujah”, using the song by Leonard Cohen. “A teenage vow in a parking lot, til tonight do us part…” Other than that, I loathe gospel music. Oh, but I love Panic! At the Disco’s “This is Gospel” from Too Weird to Live, Too Rare to Die and “Hallelujah” from Death of a Bachelor, using the Chicago song “Questions 67 & 68”.

I also don’t want to be chastised and punished by a priest or some holy person for celebrating Halloween or dressing in costume for a science fiction convention. I still want to make and wear pretty things and costumes and not feel guilty about wearing them. Other than New Year’s, Halloween is my second favorite holiday. I love giving out candy and dressing like a superhero or some other character, live action or cartoon, because I just want to have fun, just like Cyndi Lauper says, “Girls just want to have fun.”

I don’t care if Halloween or my science fiction books, my Doctor Who DVDs, or my favorite Marvel movies are Satanist. I love them because they’re fun to watch and they’re fun to be a part of. I’m still going to Balticon 52 to meet author Larry Niven, I’m dressing up in my Lady Doctor Strange costume, and I’m going to be happy.

Also, let’s face it, Stephen Hawking and Neil DeGrasse Tyson are geniuses. You can tell me until you’re blue in the face that science is witchcraft and evolution is not real, but I don’t believe, I know that science is real. Einstein, Galileo, Charles Darwin, they’re all in the right and you’re wrong. Please do me a favor and teach evolution in all schools, including the Catholic ones.

And if you tell teenagers to abstain from sex because sex before marriage is against God, the kids are going to have sex and they will get pregnant before you can say graduation. They will do the exact opposite and do the unsafe thing because you didn’t teach them how to use a condom correctly. I can’t tell you how many girls in my school, or Tiffany or Kerensa’s schools got pregnant and dropped out before senior year was over.

All that said, I want this to be true. I want to believe that science and religion go hand in hand. I want to believe that God created science to allow humans to discover and learn about, and God approves of everything, even stem cell and homosexuality and people who want to change their gender. God will forgive transgenders and accept them and love them for their decisions, and everyone of LGBT and race and ethnicity should be accepted as one.

And I really want my grandmother to trust doctors and their suggestions over what Jesus tells her. Those doctors are there to save your life. I have a strong respect for the paramedics who cared for me when I went to the hospital after I was hit by a car in a crosswalk. I was also very lucky when they placed me in the ambulance, for all I had was a panic attack, and when I arrived at the hospital, they let me go home that same night, telling me to take some strong Advil for the abrasion and contusion on my left rib cage.

I also don’t blame the guy who hit me with his car. I’m willing to forgive him, because he did see me and he was slowing his car to a stop. All he did was bump into me at the wrong time because his car was old, I’d say early 80s, and it needed its brakes fixed. Not his fault.

It still doesn’t change the fact that he’s in prison right now. That makes me feel guilty.

I lost my faith in so many things three years ago into my relationship that started in late summer, 2016. I was even scared to believe in the power of love or myself, because I was a ruthless pessimist. I wanted to believe in the power of positive thinking and affirmations like Louise Hay said in her books and teachings, but I had a hard time believing in it because I felt such strong resentment for myself and I couldn’t unlearn what I’ve learned from all the horrible experiences.

And as for my next birthday, the day I turn 30 will be here in 10 or 11 weeks, two months from next Friday. My friend from WTC is getting married in one year starting this Saturday and she needs to find a venue fast. I would love it if David Tuttera surprised my friends, the happy couple, with a wedding makeover for his show My Fair Wedding. I really need to be at this wedding because I plan to do something as part of the reception, a poetry reading in light of their wedded bliss. And it includes the Bryan Adams song from Robin Hood Prince of Thieves, the one with Alan Rickman, talking everything about vows and love.

To say the least, I’m still scared my birthday and my 30s will be a disaster.

I’ve never had a surprise party, I’ve never had a real party with people that truly mattered to me. The only exception was when I was 13 and I had a cosmic bowling party where the only people who seemed to care about me becoming a teenager were my parents, Delian Vengrouskie, Katherine Meckel, and maybe a couple of her other friends like Kathryn and Lauren. Except my parents, those people aren’t in my life anymore. Since I went to college, I’ve never heard from Katherine ever again, and since 2014, Delian disappeared off my planet, and I think he meant it the last time we spoke that he wasn’t my friend anymore and I could never repeat our old times together when his parents were still married.

Times have changed, my friends have definitely changed, and I really don’t want to let my friends go without saying goodbye when we’re old.

I really want to see everyone I’ve known over the years, my dad’s friends included, to be there celebrating with me, and no one hates each other, including you, Beth, Amy, and Meghan. I’m still friends with all three of you and I don’t care if it’s at Dave and Busters, the Cinemark movies in Towson, or Medieval Times, I want everyone I care about to put their resentment aside and not fight each other on my milestone day. No angry fights about how someone is not a Christian or how people are perfectly happy without having kids. No put downs on Beth, who has a lot on her hands because she has a two year old child.

I see both sides of the argument, and I think people can be happy whether they have kids or not. I refuse to take sides. Having children is a huge responsibility, but it also can be fun. But I also fully support women who say they don’t want any children, for I’m currently one of them.

I just want to be Aunt Awesome.

But the one thing I want the most is an agent for my book before I turn 30. I don’t care how it happens, I want to be published before I’m 35. Time is short, because I’m not with DORS anymore, I don’t want to talk about it right now, and if I don’t get some kind of income soon, my parents will die somehow and I will be on the street homeless.

There is one silver lining though. Since I wrote the blog post “What About Love” last week, I had a breakthrough. I told my therapist the real question I said in that post, that there needs to be a TV drama or sitcom or adult fiction/ science fiction novel that talks about loving yourself. My therapist agreed with me that there wasn’t one and she shared my gut feelings.

I told my mom that night, and she was pretty disappointed with what the therapist said. She took it a step further and said, “Do you know how to write a screenplay?”

I took only one screenwriting class…” was all I got out.

You have a Bachelor’s in journalism,” mom said. “You took a creative writing minor, right? Damn it, Rachel, WRITE IT YOURSELF! I don’t mean to beat this into the ground, but if you want something done…”

She said what Thanos, Sebastian the Caribbean crab (Little Mermaid), Mr. Zorg (Fifth Element), and a bunch of other movie characters have said, and definitely what Edna Mode was eluding to when Elastigirl was crying after realizing her husband Mr. Incredible was in danger: “You are ELASTIGIRL! My god, PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER! … Confront the problem! Fight! Win! And then call me back, dahhling, I enjoy our little visits.”

If you want something done, do it yourself.

In the words of Gru: “Liiiight buuulb…”

My original project from April 2018 Camp NaNo, Midnight on Centauri, is getting a face lift on the plot, and I’m hoping it will be ready in the summertime. Instead of my original idea, which was to have just aliens and humans battling for freedom out of their dream world prison, like The Matrix, I’m doing something more to it to be more like Avengers, Guardians of the Galaxy, and Ready Player One, but in space. And it now has a new message: Love yourself first before anyone else.

I’ve already drafted the plot outline of how this story is going to go, and I hope it will have sequels. Those of you on Inkitt.com who liked my story Super Frost, you will see those characters like Violet Harris and Jeremy Russel “Solar Fury” in Midnight on Centauri. I’m calling it the Inner Goddess saga and I hope lots of people read this and learn something from it.

Remember the L’Oreal French beauty products slogan. “Because you’re worth it.”

-The Lady in the Blue Box

Playlist selection- the song from Fall Out Boy that makes me feel like a goddess


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