Harry Potter fanfiction. I don't know where the plot was going, and I don't even know if this has a plot at all. Probably Harry/Draco or Voldemort/Harry, if anyone fancies a little LVHP later on. Anyway, AU fics. Yay. About a thousand eight hundred words.
---
Half-whispered sounds in the dark.
"Father?"
"Quiet, Draco."
---
In a little town in Surrey, England, the wizarding world's saviour grew up. He was three when Vernon Dursley first hit him, and he was seven when he first understood that it was called domestic violence and that it was wrong.
By that point, he didn't see any way to stop it.
"Get the mail, boy," Vernon grunted, heaping more pancakes onto his plate.
"Yes, Uncle," the boy replied, slipping off his chair and darting into the hallway. Spending time with the family was tense. Difficult. He never knew when Uncle Vernon would get angry - he never knew when Uncle Vernon would suddenly decide that the good for nothing orphan needed another beating.
He was nine. Stick-thin and all sharp bones. His skin was an unhealthy shade of white striped with red. One eye was swollen shut and the other was disproportionately large in his skinny face.
Each day he prayed that Uncle Vernon would forget about his existence.
---
"Your son is so well-behaved and neat. Why, my boy - he's always running around and spilling things on himself! You must be so proud," some socialite said while patting Narcissa Malfoy's arm.
"He'll do you proud," said another woman coldly, her fingers toying with her necklace of pearls.
Narcissa was sure that both women were childless. She gave them both a placating smile. "You flatter me, Draco is merely obedient by nature." She glanced at her husband and child - Lucius tall and imposing, Draco standing straight and expressionless beside him. "My son is hardly as angelic as you make him out to be. Why, just last week..."
But as she turned away, her smile slipped a little, froze a little. A meaningless action of the flesh, disconnected from any emotions. She was a trophy wife. She had no wish to know about the actions of her husband or child, as long as her reputation was unaffected.
Yet not wanting to know was not the same as not knowing. Narcissa Malfoy knew about everything that happened in the manor. Narcissa Malfoy knew exactly why her husband's hand tightened its grip on her son's shoulder. She knew exactly why her son paled.
But Narcissa Malfoy was not a charitable woman.
---
Harry Potter turned ten years old in the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs. All he had for company was the small rat that he had managed to tease out from the holes in the wall with bits of food over the years. His stomach grumbled in hunger - a sort of protesting, unhappy sound - but he was used to it. He didn't react.
He was so tired. He had spent the day hanging up wet laundry for his aunt, and then taking it all down again when they had dried. It was hard work, and his boney arms ached from the exertion. Uncle Vernon's clothes had been especially heavy.
All he had eaten all day was two sandwiches - one in the morning, put together with the leftover vegetables that Vernon and Dudley didn't like to eat, and one more at four in the afternoon, when Petunia threw out the expired foods and greens. Perhaps he could sneak out to get an apple or two, but he wasn't sure that he had enough energy for it.
The rat under his cold fingertips make a soft screeching noise. He stroked its fur again, hardly feeling anything with his calloused hands. It made another sound.
"Sorry," he whispered to the rat. He thought that maybe he had poked it, it felt all the same to him.
He licked his lips. They were peeling. He made a note to drink more water when he could.
---
Draco had learned not to make any sounds when his father's silhouette appeared in the doorway. It didn't matter, not really, because every room in the manor was soundproofed, but his father seemed to like him being quiet.
"Turn over," came the harsh whisper, and then a soft finger made its way down his back, over the thin, raised scars, and down. He wanted to shiver but didn't dare. He could hardly breathe. He didn't know whether he was breathing.
"Stop that, Draco," his father said, annoyed. Oh. He was trembling after all. He clenched his fists and tried not to move. Be a statue, he told himself, digging his nails deeper into his palms. A statue. Don't move. Father doesn't like it when you move.
"How many times have I told you? You'll only hurt yourself this way." Shit. Maybe father was angry.
"S-sorry," he bit out through his teeth. He had stress issues. He tended to grind his teeth and bite down really hard when he was scared and nervous or stressed. It made his jaw ache.
"No matter."
And then Draco couldn't tell if he was breathing. It was quiet, so silent, but it felt like the pain was rebounding off the walls in his heads. Rebounding and magnifying.
He was fucking terrified. He didn't know what was up or down. He couldn't feel the strong fingers gripping his hips. His feet were cold. He tried not to cry.
And then it was over.
He let out a breath that he didn't even know he had been holding, but it came out uneven and stinking of fear. He curled in on himself as his father left, wrapping his childish fingers around his arms and hugging himself to sleep.
He was still trembling.
---
Harry Potter turned eleven in the darkness of the cupboard under the stairs. The rat had died a few weeks after his tenth birthday, and he had no crumbs to spare to lure another companion from the walls. He was hungry all the time. He was so hungry. He thought that maybe if the rat hadn't died, then he might have been tempted to eat it.
He was thinner than ever. His skin had a grey tinge to it now, even though he sometimes did weeding in the garden, under the sun. Weeding was a good chore, because it meant that he could drink from the hose as much as he wanted and Petunia didn't care as long as the weeds were gone. Sometimes he'd get more food too, because Petunia said that she couldn't stand the disgusting sight of his ribs.
Life was better, he thought. Not good, but better. Even Uncle Vernon didn't beat him much now, not after the time when he was pushed down the stairs and broke three ribs, his left leg, fractured his ankle, and got a concussion. It wasn't too bad, because his leg didn't heal for a month and he was allowed to do fewer chores. The family didn't like to mention that, though.
But as he sat in his cupboard, he wondered about the future. Was he to be starved and locked away for ten years, and ten more years? He knew that the next day would be a repetition of the previous day. He knew that it was useless to daydream and ask stupid questions. But he was too hungry to sleep, and in five more hours he would have to get up and make breakfast for the Dursleys.
Harry Potter hoped that he could steal a scrambled egg or two without Uncle Vernon noticing.
---
"You'll be going to Hogwarts soon, Draco," Lucius Malfoy said while circling his son slowly. His sharp eyes examined his son's clothes for any disarray, any stain. Finding none, he continued. "Don't bring shame onto the family."
A nod from his obedient son.
"I warned you," he breathed. "Eleven years down the drain, I see."
"No, father. I'm sorry, father. I won't make that mistake again." Draco's jaw was beginning to freeze up. It was making it hard for him to speak. He should have known better than to reply with a nod. He should have said 'I understand, father' as he did every other day. He was already bringing shame upon the family.
"I'm sorry, father," he repeated softly, just in case.
"I expect a letter informing me of your... acceptance into Slytherin." Lucius Malfoy's eyes narrowed, and he waited for a barely audible 'yes, father' from his son before striding away.
---
There was the electric bill, the phone bill, and a letter addressed to Mr. H. Potter.
---
"I can't go," Harry half-gasped, half-sobbed to the giant. "Please, don't make me go, Uncle Vernon will kill me."
"Y-you hear that, imbecile? The boy doesn't want to go!" Vernon's aim wasn't as steady as he'd always claimed, and there were beads of sweat on his nose. Dudley tried to hide behind his father, but he was even wider than Vernon by that point.
"Nonsense, 'arry! O'course you want 'ta go, that's where yer parents got their schooling!" Hagrid, as he had introduced himself, wasn't taking no for an answer.
"I can't pay for it," Harry said desperately, "so I definitely can't go."
"What are yer on about? Yer parents paid for 'ogwarts the day yer were born!"
Harry made a noise of frustration and tried again. "It's too far from my relatives! I-I'll be homesick!"
"Yer'll be all right, 'arry, there are tons of holidays!" Hagrid patted him on the back, and he nearly fell over. "So it's settled, we're setting off tomorrow!" He then proceeded to fit himself into the sofa and grin at Dursley. Harry heard the wood crack.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Vernon, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen, please," he begged. He didn't want to be shot. He'd been shot, once, and it had been far more painful than any beating he had ever received. "Please," he added, voice faltering.
Vernon hesitated for a moment, before glaring at Harry and the giant. "I'll have no part in this!" he bellowed, and stomped upstairs with Dudley at his heels.
There was silence for a while, and Harry began wringing his hands. He'd be punished. He wouldn't be allowed food for two weeks, and Uncle Vernon would beat him again. Dudley would beat him. Maybe Aunt Petunia would beat him too.
He began breathing faster and faster, and somehow there was never enough oxygen, and he was clenching his teeth, and there wasn't enough air, and the edges of his vision began to go dark.
---
"So you're Harry Potter," the blonde boy said, sneering at how his robes hung off his frame.
"Yes," Harry replied nervously, wanting to bite his lip but not quite daring to.
"My name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy, and you'll soon find that some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You wouldn't want to go around with the wrong sort. I can help you with that." He stuck out his hand.
"It's nice to meet you, Draco," Harry said, and stuck out his own hand, but he hadn't eaten anything since the previous morning and swayed before collapsing senseless onto the floor of the train compartment.
---
12 February 2013
movies that suck: cloudy with a chance of meatballs
I like animated things. Sometimes (often) they're a lot wittier than normal movies, simply because animation isn't limited to what's feasible (within the budget). I love How to Train Your Dragon. The Rise of the Guardians is awesome too.
I did NOT love Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. In fact, I was mildly irritated by the movie, and then I started fuming because that movie just makes me angry.
So basically, we see this really intelligent kid who invents awesome things but doesn't always think it through completely. And then everyone starts laughing at him. His mom is the only one who believes in him but then she dies. And then he grows up and then his dad is always disappointed with him and he's basically the local freak.
So after a string of failed inventions, he invents this machine to turn water into food. (The city somehow only eats sardine or something, I never figured it out.) Okay, and then an accident happens, the machine is launched into the sky (and it never falls back down, despite not being built to fly) and then it starts raining food, ha ha ha.
A sexy female weather woman is sent over, and to impress her, the protagonist builds this thing to communicate with the machine and tell it what food to make. Blah blah blah the sexy female is actually really intelligent too, but stopped tying her hair up with scrunchies and wearing her spectacles because she was bullied for 'not being attractive'??
So then the machine starts mutating and the food starts getting weird and basically turns into a global disaster and now he has to stop it. Yay. Sexy female reports back to the news station but the stupid idiot disses her for looking like a nerd and just cuts her off. Male protagonist writes a 'kill code' by waving his spindly arms around. Flies up, loses kill code, calls dad to send kill code to phone...
...yes but his dad apparently doesn't know how to use any kind of technology. Very realistic, but let's move on. Weird shit happens up in the sky, dad mistakenly sends dancing cat file instead, male protagonist saves the day with old failed invention, yay.
What makes me angry is that the male protagonist is portrayed as a freak...code is portrayed as 'arm-waving magic stuff'...designing and building is portrayed as 'more arm-waving magic stuff'...and the male protagonist has a spaceship thing in his backyard! Which is apparently his lab. Ha ha ha.
This movie tried to mix lame with hilarious, but failed so badly that I can't even begin to tell you how bad it failed. I am unamused. This movie is so over stereotyped that I just want to barf all over it.
First, this movie is for kids. And you show impressionable kids that "bullying is okay, the victim is tots okay after that". And you tell kids that nerdy geeky people are freaks. Yes good one there. Very good moral education you've attempted.
And then the sexy female sidekick. I didn't know you had to tie your hair in scrunchies and wear spectacles to be an intelligent female. Actually, neither did the kids, but now they do! Nice job. /rolls eyes. The amount of stereotyping here is making me nauseous, and I'm not exaggerating. Throughout the movie I just wanted to punch the screen, and only held back because I paid a lot of money for this fragile iPad.
Scrunchies and spectacles does not make someone clever, and long blonde hair does not mean someone is stupid.
Also, we have a magic policeman in the movie, who alternatively abuses the citizens and dotes on his little boy. Also he can magic jump like a monkey. Yay for realism. Oh, did I mention that he's black? Or something. He was busy abusing the protagonist. Stereotyping. I have this urge to slap my forehead with my palm. Loudly.
Oh, and the dude at the station who disses the sexy female because she wasn't attractive enough? He's a douche and he never gets that karma back. Nope, no retribution for the rich white sexist man. Kids will learn so much from this movie.
Also, the sexy female could have just pulled off the scrunchies and spectacles. It takes like one fucking hand to do that. The point is to tell everyone about the impending disaster, surely she can sacrifice a bit of her intelligent girl pride. I mean, what's more important, remaining true to yourself or saving the world? Oh, or maybe the directors could've just NOT made a doouchebag anchorman.
God, by this point I'm so frustrated that I don't even want to think about this movie any more. There's nothing realistic about anything in this movie. No realistic reactions, even, and that's like the easiest part. Want a realistic reaction to getting hit in the face? Hit someone in the face and watch their reaction. Duh.
The entire movie feels like some tired people got together and made a movie all about stereotypes. I'm picturing a forty year old man drinking coffee and saying "I think she needs to be blonder". Yeah, kids might like it, but they learn nothing good from it. And basically no one else can enjoy such bad, unenergetic animation.
As I watched the movie, I became more and more sleepy. I could feel the creativity bleeding away. I could predict exactly what was going to happen. The characters are supposed to be intelligent but can't see solutions right in front of them.
Basically I learned that stupid people make stupid movies, and then other stupid people think that the stupid movie is great and it ends up being branded as an awesome movie because everyone is stupid.
I'm depressed and I have no faith left for the universe. Kill me now, before someone makes me watch another movies as stupid as this. I think I might be a masochist. I hate myself. Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs is a shitty movie and I hate the world.
I did NOT love Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs. In fact, I was mildly irritated by the movie, and then I started fuming because that movie just makes me angry.
So basically, we see this really intelligent kid who invents awesome things but doesn't always think it through completely. And then everyone starts laughing at him. His mom is the only one who believes in him but then she dies. And then he grows up and then his dad is always disappointed with him and he's basically the local freak.
So after a string of failed inventions, he invents this machine to turn water into food. (The city somehow only eats sardine or something, I never figured it out.) Okay, and then an accident happens, the machine is launched into the sky (and it never falls back down, despite not being built to fly) and then it starts raining food, ha ha ha.
A sexy female weather woman is sent over, and to impress her, the protagonist builds this thing to communicate with the machine and tell it what food to make. Blah blah blah the sexy female is actually really intelligent too, but stopped tying her hair up with scrunchies and wearing her spectacles because she was bullied for 'not being attractive'??
So then the machine starts mutating and the food starts getting weird and basically turns into a global disaster and now he has to stop it. Yay. Sexy female reports back to the news station but the stupid idiot disses her for looking like a nerd and just cuts her off. Male protagonist writes a 'kill code' by waving his spindly arms around. Flies up, loses kill code, calls dad to send kill code to phone...
...yes but his dad apparently doesn't know how to use any kind of technology. Very realistic, but let's move on. Weird shit happens up in the sky, dad mistakenly sends dancing cat file instead, male protagonist saves the day with old failed invention, yay.
What makes me angry is that the male protagonist is portrayed as a freak...code is portrayed as 'arm-waving magic stuff'...designing and building is portrayed as 'more arm-waving magic stuff'...and the male protagonist has a spaceship thing in his backyard! Which is apparently his lab. Ha ha ha.
This movie tried to mix lame with hilarious, but failed so badly that I can't even begin to tell you how bad it failed. I am unamused. This movie is so over stereotyped that I just want to barf all over it.
First, this movie is for kids. And you show impressionable kids that "bullying is okay, the victim is tots okay after that". And you tell kids that nerdy geeky people are freaks. Yes good one there. Very good moral education you've attempted.
And then the sexy female sidekick. I didn't know you had to tie your hair in scrunchies and wear spectacles to be an intelligent female. Actually, neither did the kids, but now they do! Nice job. /rolls eyes. The amount of stereotyping here is making me nauseous, and I'm not exaggerating. Throughout the movie I just wanted to punch the screen, and only held back because I paid a lot of money for this fragile iPad.
Scrunchies and spectacles does not make someone clever, and long blonde hair does not mean someone is stupid.
Also, we have a magic policeman in the movie, who alternatively abuses the citizens and dotes on his little boy. Also he can magic jump like a monkey. Yay for realism. Oh, did I mention that he's black? Or something. He was busy abusing the protagonist. Stereotyping. I have this urge to slap my forehead with my palm. Loudly.
Oh, and the dude at the station who disses the sexy female because she wasn't attractive enough? He's a douche and he never gets that karma back. Nope, no retribution for the rich white sexist man. Kids will learn so much from this movie.
Also, the sexy female could have just pulled off the scrunchies and spectacles. It takes like one fucking hand to do that. The point is to tell everyone about the impending disaster, surely she can sacrifice a bit of her intelligent girl pride. I mean, what's more important, remaining true to yourself or saving the world? Oh, or maybe the directors could've just NOT made a doouchebag anchorman.
God, by this point I'm so frustrated that I don't even want to think about this movie any more. There's nothing realistic about anything in this movie. No realistic reactions, even, and that's like the easiest part. Want a realistic reaction to getting hit in the face? Hit someone in the face and watch their reaction. Duh.
The entire movie feels like some tired people got together and made a movie all about stereotypes. I'm picturing a forty year old man drinking coffee and saying "I think she needs to be blonder". Yeah, kids might like it, but they learn nothing good from it. And basically no one else can enjoy such bad, unenergetic animation.
As I watched the movie, I became more and more sleepy. I could feel the creativity bleeding away. I could predict exactly what was going to happen. The characters are supposed to be intelligent but can't see solutions right in front of them.
Basically I learned that stupid people make stupid movies, and then other stupid people think that the stupid movie is great and it ends up being branded as an awesome movie because everyone is stupid.
I'm depressed and I have no faith left for the universe. Kill me now, before someone makes me watch another movies as stupid as this. I think I might be a masochist. I hate myself. Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs is a shitty movie and I hate the world.
7 February 2013
this is a story about what Christianity can do to an educated person
Listen carefully, everyone.
My family is Christian. That is, my father and my mother and my seven year-old brother are Christians. My father has a Ph.D, and works as an engineer. His maths skills are incredible.
One day, I heard my brother being scolded by my father. I suppose he lashed out violently (again) or something. Apparently, he hit my mother. Or threw something.
My father insisted that he had to apologize. Yeah. I agree. If you hit someone, you either apologize or apologize, or be a stupid and violent little arse. I mean, if you hit someone because you were angry about not getting your way... Which is what my brother did.
So my brother was wailing and screaming and shouting that NO he wasn't ever going to fucking apologize. NO.
Okay so everyone should listen carefully. Or read carefully, whatever.
My father told him that he could apologize to god instead.
...
...
Don't get it?
It means that my brother gets to be a complete arse while thinking that he's resolved of his 'sins'. It means that my brother doesn't get to learn what proper manners is. It means that my brother doesn't have to face up to his actions. It means that my brother DOESN'T LEARN HOW TO BE A DECENT HUMAN BEING.
And you know why? Because my bloody CHRISTIAN father decided that 'god' was a good enough substitute for the victim.
Oh, yes, sure. I'll make sure to become a Christian before I kill anyone, because then I can be resolved of all my sins! If I pray and apologize to 'god', then it's the same as apologizing to my dear dead victim, isn't it??
Here are two things that are pretty obvious from this story.
First: anyone who claims that god will erase your sins if you pray is just a coward and looking to save his own skin (well, he thinks he's saving himself). If your victim, or your victim's family if your victim is dead, doesn't forgive you, then you're still a sinner. And even if they forgive you, you're still a sinner.
Not that I'm preaching. I don't care if you're a sinner. But the point is, don't go around deluding yourself and dismissing everyone else's feelings.
What would the parents of the dead children from the Sandy Hook shooting feel, if the murderer 'converted' to Christianity and went around proclaiming that he's a clean man? He thinks god has erased his sins, but the children are still dead, and he's still a murderer.
So you can believe in Jesus and help out gays, lesbians, and homeless abandoned animals. But don't be an asshole and say that Jesus forgives everything. Yeah, Jesus forgives everything, but that little kid you bullied back at high school hasn't forgiven you. Are you going to dismiss his opinion? Because then you might as well just go to your Christ right now. You aren't doing this world a favour.
Second: Christians teach weird fucking shit to their vulnerable children. Even if you don't tell your child that "all is forgiven because of Christ"
(By that way, that's called teaching them how NOT TO BEAR RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR OWN ACTIONS.)
You're still telling your children to pray to a dude who crucified himself to save the world, when he could have just prayed to his daddy and asked him to erase all sins, forever.
Crucifixion is too fucking bloody for most children under ten. I didn't feel okay for years after I found out that Jesus had nails poked through his hands and feet. (That was when I was seven.)
And then a few years later I found out that crucified people die of asphyxiation. Apparently your hands aren't made for holding up your body weight, so you sink lower and lower until you can't breathe, and then you die.
This is not good for mental health. Praying to this person is not good for mental health. If god couldn't or didn't care enough to spare his own son the agony, then what makes you think he cares about you?
...
...
So this whole Christianity deal is fucked up. The only kind of Christians I can accept are the ones who don't use the bible as a shield for their sexism, anti-choice stance, anti-LGBTQ stance, or anything at all. And they also shouldn't "leave it up to god". But then they shouldn't be called Christians. They should just be called very responsible people who happen to be theists.
Basically the only thing in the bible that is clear and makes sense is "god helps those who help themselves". It's basically a confidence booster to theists, and a message that they should get off their sorry arses, stop praying, and DO SOMETHING.
I mean, if you care enough to ask your god to change his divine plan, then you care enough to do something to help, right?
I care, but not enough run off to Africa right now, because first I can't and second I can't do anything to help anyway. But I do donate.
If you pray and don't even donate, then you are a very bad person. A very bad person!!! You're not even as good as a morally lacking sixteen year-old who doesn't even care that much.
...
...
Telling your child that god forgives his sins even though his victims doesn't forgive him is called BAD PARENTING. And you are basically ruining his moral compass.
My family is Christian. That is, my father and my mother and my seven year-old brother are Christians. My father has a Ph.D, and works as an engineer. His maths skills are incredible.
One day, I heard my brother being scolded by my father. I suppose he lashed out violently (again) or something. Apparently, he hit my mother. Or threw something.
My father insisted that he had to apologize. Yeah. I agree. If you hit someone, you either apologize or apologize, or be a stupid and violent little arse. I mean, if you hit someone because you were angry about not getting your way... Which is what my brother did.
So my brother was wailing and screaming and shouting that NO he wasn't ever going to fucking apologize. NO.
Okay so everyone should listen carefully. Or read carefully, whatever.
My father told him that he could apologize to god instead.
...
...
Don't get it?
It means that my brother gets to be a complete arse while thinking that he's resolved of his 'sins'. It means that my brother doesn't get to learn what proper manners is. It means that my brother doesn't have to face up to his actions. It means that my brother DOESN'T LEARN HOW TO BE A DECENT HUMAN BEING.
And you know why? Because my bloody CHRISTIAN father decided that 'god' was a good enough substitute for the victim.
Oh, yes, sure. I'll make sure to become a Christian before I kill anyone, because then I can be resolved of all my sins! If I pray and apologize to 'god', then it's the same as apologizing to my dear dead victim, isn't it??
Here are two things that are pretty obvious from this story.
First: anyone who claims that god will erase your sins if you pray is just a coward and looking to save his own skin (well, he thinks he's saving himself). If your victim, or your victim's family if your victim is dead, doesn't forgive you, then you're still a sinner. And even if they forgive you, you're still a sinner.
Not that I'm preaching. I don't care if you're a sinner. But the point is, don't go around deluding yourself and dismissing everyone else's feelings.
What would the parents of the dead children from the Sandy Hook shooting feel, if the murderer 'converted' to Christianity and went around proclaiming that he's a clean man? He thinks god has erased his sins, but the children are still dead, and he's still a murderer.
So you can believe in Jesus and help out gays, lesbians, and homeless abandoned animals. But don't be an asshole and say that Jesus forgives everything. Yeah, Jesus forgives everything, but that little kid you bullied back at high school hasn't forgiven you. Are you going to dismiss his opinion? Because then you might as well just go to your Christ right now. You aren't doing this world a favour.
Second: Christians teach weird fucking shit to their vulnerable children. Even if you don't tell your child that "all is forgiven because of Christ"
(By that way, that's called teaching them how NOT TO BEAR RESPONSIBILITY FOR THEIR OWN ACTIONS.)
You're still telling your children to pray to a dude who crucified himself to save the world, when he could have just prayed to his daddy and asked him to erase all sins, forever.
Crucifixion is too fucking bloody for most children under ten. I didn't feel okay for years after I found out that Jesus had nails poked through his hands and feet. (That was when I was seven.)
And then a few years later I found out that crucified people die of asphyxiation. Apparently your hands aren't made for holding up your body weight, so you sink lower and lower until you can't breathe, and then you die.
This is not good for mental health. Praying to this person is not good for mental health. If god couldn't or didn't care enough to spare his own son the agony, then what makes you think he cares about you?
...
...
So this whole Christianity deal is fucked up. The only kind of Christians I can accept are the ones who don't use the bible as a shield for their sexism, anti-choice stance, anti-LGBTQ stance, or anything at all. And they also shouldn't "leave it up to god". But then they shouldn't be called Christians. They should just be called very responsible people who happen to be theists.
Basically the only thing in the bible that is clear and makes sense is "god helps those who help themselves". It's basically a confidence booster to theists, and a message that they should get off their sorry arses, stop praying, and DO SOMETHING.
I mean, if you care enough to ask your god to change his divine plan, then you care enough to do something to help, right?
I care, but not enough run off to Africa right now, because first I can't and second I can't do anything to help anyway. But I do donate.
If you pray and don't even donate, then you are a very bad person. A very bad person!!! You're not even as good as a morally lacking sixteen year-old who doesn't even care that much.
...
...
Telling your child that god forgives his sins even though his victims doesn't forgive him is called BAD PARENTING. And you are basically ruining his moral compass.
1 February 2013
like, past posts with pathetically hilarious stuff
So yes I was looking through my old blog posts and surprising they didn't make me facepalm. I mean, yeah, I was a whiny bitch but I still am a whiny bitch so not much has changed.
What did surprise me was the fact that I used some strange phrases that turned out to be quite hilarious. So here are a few.
Am not sure if my sense of humour is dysfunctional, please send chocolate to aid in treatment of dysfunctional sense of humour if it is the case.
What did surprise me was the fact that I used some strange phrases that turned out to be quite hilarious. So here are a few.
Am not sure if my sense of humour is dysfunctional, please send chocolate to aid in treatment of dysfunctional sense of humour if it is the case.
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