I am fascinated by religion. Only because I have such trouble believing in most of the doctrine I hear that it's hard for me to fathom that anyone else does. Also, as stated previously, I am not a fan of reality, and religion seems pretty far from it to me, so I'm fascinated by it, even if I don't believe it. I am a Mass of Contradictions, don't judge me.
So, I will, from time to time, wax lyrically (hopefully) about some random thoughts about religion. Here's Number One.
When I was a little bitty thing (chronologically speaking, I mean- I still ain't no giant) I was adorable. This pretty much faded by the time I started school, but my first 5 years, I was rockin' the adorability meter.
Every night at bedtime, my mother knelt down with me beside my bed to hear my prayers. This was the 50's, after all, and yes, she was usually wearing a Donna Reed dress with pearls. The first prayer was:
"God bless Mommy and Daddy and Aidy and Nana and Uncle Paul and Mam Mam and Pap Pap and all my aunts and uncles and cousins." Then I'd say a Hail Mary, Debbie Style. The last part was the same, but the first part went: "Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of the loom, Jesus." My mother never corrected me, due, I'm guessing, to my High Adorability Factor. That was the only way the prayer made sense to me, because I didn't know what the fuck a womb was, how could I? And I sure as shit knew Fruit of the Loom, because I wore it.
When I started CCD Classes (the Catholic equivalent of Sunday School) the Nazi Nun who was my first grade teacher (Sister Mary Elizabeth *shudder*) quickly read me the riot act for my heresy, stating the old IRS favorite that "ignorance was no excuse for breaking the law" and promising me that if I kept it up I would be burning in hell next to my Protestant daddy when my time came. I felt my Adorability slip away from me like a pair of oversized Fruit of the Looms.
Thus endeth the reading for today.