Log in

No account? Create an account
Previous Entry Share Next Entry

(no subject)

Not feeling too bad today. Still annoyingly faint, still no sense of hunger, but not quite as badly detached from reality. No serious impact on my mood yet, but since returning to Raleigh, I haven't felt the need to collapse into a weeping heap, so overall, could be a lot worse.

Deb's parents and brother are coming to visit. It is a marker of how great a friend Deb is that she would allow me to stay with her during a stretch when her family is dropping in. It is a marker of the sardonic humor that the gods seem to be displaying lately that Deb's parents are Baptist missionaries.

"Are they gonna try and convert me?" I asked.

"Of course," said Deb, as if surprised I even had to ask.

"Ah."  I considered this. One does not belligerently proclaim one's skepticism in such cases--it'd be desperately rude to one's host to so disrupt the tenuous family harmony. Neither does one mention one's passing fondness for Ganesh to missionaries who worked in Thailand. "Okay, then I'm Catholic."

"You are not."

"I am so. I was baptized, I was just never confirmed."

"Eh, that'll work." (Oddly enough, claiming Catholicism does seem to work for me whenever people get the evangelical gleam. You become No Longer Their Problem. You're still going to hell, but a more respectable one.)

"And thank you for looking less goth than usual today," she added, eyeing me. (Because I am living out of a suitcase, my wardrobe at the moment consists of jeans and unrelieved black. And one brown t-shirt, which I was wearing.) "My mom's already going to say something about the tattoo..."

"Best investment I ever made." I swear, this thing starts more conversations. Not always conversations I wish to have, apparently, but still...

Wish me luck.

  • 1
My ex's sister and BIL were pentecostal missionaries (Baptist-derived, but more hardcore). We used to hide the liquor cabinet when they came for a visit. I remember the day I first met them: I was giving J's sister and her daughter the tour of the house (where J and I lived in sin, but they were apparently willing to overlook that). Without thinking, as I passed through the living room, I said, "And this is a Chinese dragon painting that J's friend gave to us. It's a symbol for good luck."

Without missing a beat, J's sister turned to her daugher and said, "But we don't believe in luck, do we, because we have Our Lord Jesus Christ as our Savior and Guiding Light!"

...to which I said the only polite thing that popped into my head: "And right over here is the kitchen."

I'm so glad to be rid of that family. Last I heard they were missionaries in Goa, where they and their children were nearly killed by anti-Christian rioters. I'm all for freedom of religion, but not the right to keep your child somewhere that endangers his life.

  • 1