Losing my religion

A friend told me in a text today God doesn’t exist.

I retorted ‘For God’s sake!’, hoping to annoy him, then resumed my stroll around the fruit shop, more concerned about the price of avocados than the existence of a higher power.

Another friend, a Buddhist monk who was on the debating team with me at our Catholic high school, posted a quote about fasting on his Facebook page.

All I could see was a spelling mistake.

And former New South Wales Premier turned social commentator Kristina Keneally claimed Catholicism has done more harm to Australia than Islam in an article published in today’s Guardian newspaper.

My finger hovered over the link to the story as I considered if I could spare a moment to read it.

I decided I couldn’t, preferring to learn more about yesterday’s Oscars debacle from the Huffington Post.

My point

I wonder if my lack of interest in religion points to an increasingly shallow nature.

Too serious for the fun crowd but bored by the philosophical and intellectual, my Facebook feed is a sobering reflection of my narrow interests.

It’s more than the ads which are disconcerting. (No, I do not need period-proof panties, wine socks or an accountability journal.)

The media stories I’m presented with are rarely edifying.

Facebook’s algorithm puts me in a lonely badlands of blurry sports pics, techie chat about website plug-ins and introspective thought pieces on the perils of online dating or the challenges of living with teenagers.

It really is time to step outside of myself and the restricted reading matter that lives on my phone.

I need to read a good book (although preferably not one about religion).

For the record

Too much to recount and too little time to do it in.

The annual QFA dinner I organised a couple of weeks ago was well-received by the members. They particularly enjoyed the cheap drinks. Dad, mum and two siblings all pitched in, setting up tables and finding a functional PA system, cutting flowers for centrepieces and running the bar. Of course. Volunteering is a universal family trait.

Now I’ve unleashed my developing media skills on the state fencing body, taking control (almost) of its social media and shaping its messages through the website and email marketing. I’m taking photographs and writing posts and looking for interesting stuff to share. It’s incredibly time consuming. Most pressing is an annual report I agreed to work on. Graphic design is not my strength and I’m struggling. But there’s no money to outsource, so this scribe is also creating shapes and deciding on complementary fonts and choosing appealing colours. Words are almost an afterthought.

I wish I could just write stories.

copywriting me

Angela Bensted is Brisbane-based freelance writer who likes to listen first and struggle with syntax later. She pitches stories to magazines, sometimes successfully, and helps businesses produce compelling copy for print and online.

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