Perpetual Smile

I’m singing the Spice Girls right now and my cat has probably OD’d on Lithium, she’s so happy.

Tonight is going to rock, despite all of the shoot-me-now my life has been lately. I’m going to see Watchmen with Mike, and it’s going to be awesome. I’ve never read the graphic novel, but the trailer just looks so cool I think I’m going to be obsessed. In fact, there is a discount book store in my city that just opened, so I think Mike and I are going to check that out today. Maybe they’ll have the book and I won’t have to feel guilty about spending any money because everything in there is (supposedly) 40% off regular seller prices.

Last night was the season finale of Burn Notice. The new season starts in June. I’m going to die between now and then. Speaking of TV, I’m behind on Dollhouse and probably going to miss tonight’s episode. Whoever decided to put it on a Friday night is a moron. No one is home Friday night. I hope they count the number of views the episodes on the Fox website get, because I doubt the TV ratings are very high.

We also watched Religulous last night. I agreed with a lot of what Bill Maher said. My mom is Protestant and my dad is Catholic, though neither of them are hardcore about it. I was baptized Protestant and raised with a little bit of both. Mom always made us go to church on Sundays with her mother, while Dad stayed at home and watched Nascar. (I never got why it was okay for him to stay home but I had to endure two hours of either Sunday school or the pastor droning on and on. My favorite part about church was the Italian bread and grape juice. Oh, that and going home and playing with my toys afterward.)

I can’t remember exactly when I stopped going, but eventually my mom gave up on dragging me out of bed to go somewhere I didn’t want to be. Religion just never made sense for me. I listened to the stories and teachings, but I had a hard time believing in something I couldn’t see or feel. I tried exploring other religions for a while. I practiced Wicca and read about Druidism. I studied the Muslim religion in eighth grade. As interesting as it all was, I didn’t take any of it seriously.

I don’t believe in any kind of higher power. I am a firm believer of living my own life the way I want to, and treating others the way I want to be treated. I practice being happy and being a good person. I’ve been called a Satanist, and I’ve had people stop talking to me just because I don’t believe in any kind of god. (For the record, I don’t believe in any kind of devil, either. I think people have the freedom to be good or evil.) I once got fired from a job for no real reason, and I still believe to this day that it was because I don’t have a religion. (My boss and coworkers were all religious in some way.)

Religion is a touchy subject for most people. Don’t get me wrong. I am fascinated by other people’s beliefs. It’s interesting to me, but I take as much stock in it as I take in the spaghetti monster in the sky. (I did that just for you, Mike. I know you’re reading this, even though you never comment. Lazy ass.) I won’t not talk to someone just because of their religion. As weird as some practices may seem to me — like Scientology — I won’t dispute that it’s something people believe in. You believe what you wanna believe. I’ll leave you alone, as long as you leave me alone. Don’t interrogate me or tell me what I need to believe. Don’t try to force me into praying, or I’ll sick the vicious kitty on you: