somewhere on my way, Anna N. Schnieden [best summer reads TXT] 📗

many students and young adults did the same…just like my cousin…he jumped out of a building. It went on for a while, until a man hung his family and himself. The breaking news said he was a normal teacher before he became a member of…crazy…Christian church. So, the Thai government permanently shut them down by force. That actually happened in so many countries as well.

 

Everywhere I had been, I always visited old churches, I like the architecture.

There are so many churches in Europe, almost on every street except in Amsterdam. I think I only saw one or two, even though I stayed outside Amsterdam’s city (in Zaandam), I did not see any church in town or wherever else I went, only saw…coffeeshops…hmmm maybe that was…why!

 

 

Churches in Europe are magnificent, with a lot of decorations and so many attractive contribution boxes. Old churches are handmade, such as St. Bartholomew’s (London, England) founded in 1123, but Henry VIII smacked some parts off and later it had been rebuilt, the original building is at the front of the church. St. Stephen’s Cathedral (Vienna, Austria) founded in 1147, effortfully built, stunning architecture with a long history, survived World War II…well, some part was on fire and fell down, but had been rebuilt. Those churches made me think of Father G and his church…!

 

Even though I chose to believe that the god did exist while full of doubt, I had never told Father G because he was the first real live man of God I knew. He did not do bloody rituals or accounting, and money only came from generous people. He lived rudimentarily and he was a little talkative, but for the good of the god, therefore, I did not want to disappoint him.

 

I knew I was a sucky believer, but he understood me, and he always had some way to tell me that I should have done better! I was late for the church’s time…often, and I did not go to the church every week,

 

“Finally, you showed up. I thought you had already got bored of…me.” Father G.

 

 

“Sorry, Father, I’m kind of lazy with my students.” Me.

 

 

“I see. You were late. Don’t think I didn’t see. You were sneaking in. Do I have to open ‘Midnight Mass’ for you?” Father G.

 

“Sneaking? There were a lot of people at the door…Sorry, Father. How about I take you and God for lunch?” Me.

 

“Uhuh, that’s about right! Where are we going?” Father G.

 

 

I could not help it…the doubt…when I was reading histories about…god…church…popes. So many religions had drawn wars and bloody things, so many suicides, so many bomb lovers and all the incidents have been

 

 

repeating…forever? And stairway to heaven…boy, too many, not sure, which one is the best shortcut, never asked…I might get beaten.

 

Furthermore, I did not get the point of original sin really; let’s think logically and collaboratively. According to Greek and Egyptian mythology before AD, because Adam ate Eve’s apple, therefore they no longer understood God’s words or language, I am not sure which one. Why does the god make genders and hormones in the first place? And we know what happens when the hormones go…nuts, so I interpreted the god how…I understood, not from any bible, not any monk or priest, but my own understanding! I do not believe in original sin or other shit because I did not ask to be born…someone made me with a fucked up responsibility…no teatime…so original sin…can fuck off!

 

I had never prayed for anything; to be precise, I did not pray at all. Although I was once asking for help, it was a life and death situation, but no help came, I never asked again. Still, I thought just like everybody does, “God has a plan” or plans…not sure it was a good plan, though. I did not connect to the concepts. However, I believed Father G, “God is forgiveness,” even though I heard so many religious people like to say, “God will punish you” or “Condemn to hell for eternity!”…mann… have we not suffered enough??

 

Well, one night I was watching FBI Files, it was about a loving daughter who tried to kill mammy, daddy, and her young brother, but the daddy had survived. After police, FBI, and forensics pointed to the loving…killer daughter, undoubtedly and evidently, yet her daddy stood beside her, holding her, crying for her and begging for his daughter’s freedom!

 

So, if the god is a father of all just like every Christian told me, why cannot he be like the killer daughter’s father…right? Punishment and condemnation are not parenting, if the god has to condemn, we’ll probably see everyone in hell, and I don’t think Lucy would like that. More bombing and killing in many horrible ways, and in the name of Gods, made me think, “Really, Father? Don’t you want to do something about it?...Father…Daddy!”

 

 

Some churches I had been to…oh, I have to say…some were so….never mind! There were slanders and globular organs abused on…my little face in…God’s home, and in the middle of the Mass, that was supposed to remind them of Jesus…Ohh!

 

I was in a church far…far away from my country, in the middle of the Mass and about to do the greeting (handshake) with a middle-aged lady who stood in front of me. Someway, somehow, her hand lost its way and went to a man behind me and when I turned to the man…worrying about his handshake…hmm…the man was not cooperating with Jesus, no handshake for me. I did look at my hands…long looking!! Unpredictably, the church’s usher did not want to collect my donation and he noticed me with…a feeling of disturbed surprise resulting from…my face? I wanted to beg him “Please, let me go to heaven too?” but from his expression and a huge…shiny steel bowl filled with some money…never mind heaven!

 

Somehow, the surprise of my face went too far for the priests…well, that was... oh, no… they did not say bye-bye at the end of the Mass to me because when it was my turn to be in front of those priests who had “Sight-Effect” of my little face, it was like…

 

“OMG is that…..?” I was getting worried about my face, that day, I was staring at my face all day…

 

In a more surprising sequence of events, I met a man who was supposed to be a minister of a church, which was called something similar to…“Highway to heaven.” I was at his house because I wanted to return some gifts, which his church sent me by post. He was busy…shooting a big bird…chicken like, but the bird was not dead and it was wounded between its wing and the leg on its left side. The minister let his 2 terrier dogs tear the bird apart…alive! I was gone because Mr. Lunatic took over my brain,

 

“Why did you do that?” Me, with a high-power speaker.

 

 

“Oh, don’t worry. That was a bad blackbird.” The Minister.

 

 

“Wow, it must be very bad then. That’s why you condemn it to death? This is quite a fancy way of dying…don’t you think? I’m impressed. Are you sure? You are a minister…of …hell? You look more like…Animals Love Hunters.” Me.

 

“Jesus hunted too. If we don’t hunt them, there’ll be too many and too many diseases. In here, hunting is a sport. Nothing is wrong…you know!” The Minister.

 

“???...Wow really, did you have fun in the hunting season…Minister of death? Ya!!! Wow, that’s amazing…really? Do you have fun? Are you sure? Ya!!! Ok, how about I’ll get my gun. In the meantime, could you please…run! I want to feel how fun, knowing that a life I’m trying to take is scared and helpless. I’m very curious. Can you help me out? I want to feel the fun!” Me.

 

“Ahhh…” The Minister.

 

 

“Yes? I don’t think Jesus was a hunter. And if he was, he definitely did not do 20-man slaughtering…shooting…hunting? And he wasn’t a bird killer…hmmm he was a carpenter. I studied the Bible too, did not find one that relates to the 20 men hunting. What kind of “Bible” do you use?” Me.

 

(I had been told from the locals that the…shit minister likes hunting and how did he do it? Simple! He got his friends…hmmm about 10 people on one side with guns and another 20 on another side…slaughtering poor animals.)

 

“Ah…Ah, Holy Bible.” The minister.

 

 

“Really? Woo, did you read Deuteronomy 30:15? ‘I call heaven and earth as witnesses today against you. That I have set before you, life and death, blessing and cursing; therefore, Choose Life, that you and your descendants may live’…Minister? Hellooo…” Me.

 

I had a chance to discuss with Father G about what I had been facing inside those religions’ homes, but he reminded me that they were just men and I did not need to go to those churches,

 

 

 

“Fuck them! I’m tired as much as you are, seeing this…these shits all over the place. Remember what I said? God is good and nothing more. Don’t let them drown you to hell. You’re God’s chosen. Have you ever thought? Why do they need churches more than you?” Father G. (upset)

 

“Hang on Father, really ‘God’s chosen,’ haaaa, you’ve got to be kidding me…Father? Me? Now, I’m getting a real…scare! By the way, you just used the F and S words.” Me.

 

“Ha ha. You do understand the god. Let’s just say…sometimes you’re bitchy, but nothing serious. You don’t behave like them because you understand God. Have you ever thought that way?” Father G.

 

“I still watch Harry Potter. Just so you know…” Me.

 

 

“I thought you don’t believe in gibberish.” Father G.

 

 

“I don’t. I like him. We had the same homogeneous childhood except I don’t have magic, otherwise, we’d have had a frog problem! Can you imagine me…and magic?” Me.

 

So, I completely understood what Father G said and I was…hmm proud of myself…huh?…I saw the point of Father G’s speeches, therefore I needed to talk to ‘The Fuck Them’ more…when I needed to feel special! However, the special came with brain bleeding…after the second conversation with the minister…shit; I did not think he wanted to talk to me anymore, like…in perpetuity, so cool. Actually, one of his followers came to talk to me about…permuting my Christian religion to their Christian religion:

 

“My Jesus is better than the Catholics’! I talk directly to our Mighty One when ‘HE’ appears to me.”

 

Wow…Amazing! I had to tell her that I did not have the ability to talk to the god, but it was good to know that the god is a He; I probably could not be useful to them…If

 

 

I have to talk to…the HE…hmmm directly, I would be afraid of my own interpretation!!!…Imagine…me with the…god…and the interpretation! Oh…boy!

 

Church-free I was until I got back to Thailand, working and building my house. Father G moved to the east of the country, helping people and operating a new church, and later he moved on from earth to heaven…

 

It seemed like…everyone could not run away from me in this earth…fast…and far enough! Mr. Ok, Mr. Cute, and Ms. No Water, they were my lifetime bosses and I was their lifetime employee, so I was piss…hmmm…about the way they ran away from me to heaven. Can’t really talk to them! The only boss left over is Mr. Glass, so I told him,

 

“If you run away from me to…Heaven, I’ll beat you when I get there! You get it?” Me.

 

 

“I thought you hate heaven!” Mr. Glass.

 

 

“I just go there to beat you...then get back to hell…where I belong…hello!” Me.

 

 

While everyone seemed to be in hurry…moving to…a place in regard to various angels…above the sky. And no Father G meant no god’s major discussions, therefore I was filled up with more and more…???

 

I did not think about the god, as working always…busy crazy until Mr. Wise (the real-life wise man) showed up in my…. abnormal unorthodox little life. At the time, I was having a hush with the god because more…shits seemed to be mired all over the world and I got dirty along the way!

 

Mr. Wise was in Thailand because of…me, and Moonlight’s funeral, which