saige

So on the down side of things, my best friend's mom died the other day.
Hepatitis of some sort.
My friend didn't even get out of jail in time to say goodbye, she was two hours late.
I can't imagine the pain and frustration in being only two hours late to say goodbye to your mom for the very last time.

It was a very Catholic funeral, in a very Catholic church.
Every funeral I had ever been to in the past was a thing of such touching sadness and loss; the room is filled with flowers and there are pictures everywhere of the deceased person, depicting all the happy times in their life, so you can look them over and remember them the way you'd want to. Usually the father/minister/preist/what have you will go up and say a few words about the person, then all their closest family and friends will go up and say something horribly heart wrenching and beautiful all at the same time, and it's all very emotional and moving...

Apparently most Catholics don't do it like that.
It was mass. Fucking MASS.
I can remember sitting there in the back of the church after a time, listening to all the prayers and the chanting and the bells and the sitting down and standing up and sitting down and standing up, and thinking, "What the FUCK does all this have to do with Emily's mom?!"
Forgive me if I should offend anyone reading this. I am not a Christian. And I am certainly one of the farthest things there is from a Catholic. And even if I was, I still don't think I would be able to see the point in it all...
It left me feeling very disensitized to the whole ordeal, I didn't feel like I was at a funeral at all, I felt like I was at fucking church, I felt like it all had way more to do with their God than remembering the life of their loved one.

And then they wanted everyone to go up and accept communion, and they wanted anyone who wasn't Catholic to walk up with their head bowed and their arms across their chest like some guard against the evil that apparently lay within them. An elderly couple urged me to go up, saying it was something I had to do, but I politely declined. Anyways they probably would have wanted me to crawl up there on my hands and knees, whipping myself with palm leaves the whole way... considering Erik was there wearing his Thor's Hammer around his neck and I was wearing my Pentacle.
It took alot for me not to cry out in disdain but I was respectful.

Oh jeez, but at the dinner afterwards, in the dining hall behind the church, I was being impatient with Erik because we were planning on leaving after he drank his coffee, but he wasn't drinking fast enough, so I was flicking spit balls at him with my spoon. One of the spit balls landed right behind his glasses and stuck there, and he yelled out, "Oh Jesus Christ!!!"
I laughed so fucking hard, and then felt horrible for it...
Oops.



I would also like to say that I really hate being woken up at 4am by drunken idiots in the room next to me.
We do not have doors, only curtains, and that room is two feet away from mine.
Yes it's all very hilarious that you're all so fucked up, but when you come home from your wonderful evening out would you mind seriously shutting the fuck up while I'm fucking SLEEPING?!
I am a very light sleeper. I get woken up by everyone's fucking cellphones going off in the middle of the night, while it doesn't seem to budge anyone else.
It's even worse when they come to my room and climb in the bed with me.
"Ha ha ha I'm so drunk!! What's up with you?! What're you doin?! SLEEPIN?! Oh that's lame! Ha ha! Lets watch a movie! Lets order a pizza!"


Needless to say, I'm pretty fuckin cranky when I'm tired.



But! My brother is temporily home from his second tour in Iraq, and although he is the cause of many of my cranky 4am outbursts, I am still happy that he's here