Sunday, May 18, 2008
The Prize Pig
I don't like my parent's church. I've tried. For a few years now. Still, nope, don't like it. Not one bit. Don't get me wrong, all the folks there are perfectly nice and I'm glad Mom and Dad have a place where they are comfortable. But I don't like the experience of going. I'd tried to bargain with Mom this time and said "you know, I go to your church every time I visit. How about us going to an Episcopal church in your town". She agreed to think about it, so I found one, found the service times (same as the church I go to, shock). When we discussed it last night, somehow Dad's one vote overruled mine and Mom's. Truthfully, Mom didn't vote aloud, so I guess it was them vs me. No surprises there.
So to their huge mega-Baptist, pre-recorded schmaltzy, over-produced-music, PowerPoint using church we went this morning. All that is pretty much enough to make me hurl. Too.many.people. I just don't like stadium seating in church. Most of their music doesn't come from their orchestra, pianist, organist. It's prerecorded and way (can I say it again) over-produced. Then there are the PowerPoints. I get that it's the "stained glass" of our day, but stained glass is beautiful in a way that PowerPoint never will be. Especially when the PP has all the bullets crammed into the bottom quarter of the screen and the title runs off the page.
All that though would be fairly liveable. A huge church could offer anonymity. You go sit down, you listen, you leave. Oh no. Mom and Dad have talked about me enough that practically EVERYONE within 20 years of their age knows me. Well, they *think* they know me. And Mom introduces me to everyone we pass, just to be sure. It's like being the prizewinning pig at the county fair. Seriously, Wilbur in Charlotte's Web got less attention than I did this morning. And he knew the interest in his well-being was going to prevent him from becoming sausage, so he was cool with it. Me, not so much.
You see, I'm shy. No one reading this will believe it for a second, but if I had the choice of meeting a stranger or just walking by them, I'm walking by every time. Yes, I have friends and I am social with them. But I don't want to hug someone I just met simply because my Mom has told that person my biography. And I hate Hate HATE it when that person says "Now, you're the one who lives in who went to and works at . You just built a house, didn't you?". I'm an only. Yes, by default, I'm "that one". It makes me want to say "No, actually, I'm the 'escort'. Maybe you've seen my latest porno movie? You know, it's a business I just LOVE. I'm going to make Jenna Jameson look like Betty Crocker." Not that they'd know who Jenna is. I don't want to "meet" 30 people in a morning that I'm not likely to see more than 4 times a year. Call me a snob, a hermit, an anti-social crab, whatever. I do not like being led around the megachurch and introduced. I know they're proud of me. That's fine. I am not a prize-winning pig (or anything else). I have no blue ribbons.
I think next time, I'm sleeping later, going to St. Mark's and I'll just meet them for lunch.
So to their huge mega-Baptist, pre-recorded schmaltzy, over-produced-music, PowerPoint using church we went this morning. All that is pretty much enough to make me hurl. Too.many.people. I just don't like stadium seating in church. Most of their music doesn't come from their orchestra, pianist, organist. It's prerecorded and way (can I say it again) over-produced. Then there are the PowerPoints. I get that it's the "stained glass" of our day, but stained glass is beautiful in a way that PowerPoint never will be. Especially when the PP has all the bullets crammed into the bottom quarter of the screen and the title runs off the page.
All that though would be fairly liveable. A huge church could offer anonymity. You go sit down, you listen, you leave. Oh no. Mom and Dad have talked about me enough that practically EVERYONE within 20 years of their age knows me. Well, they *think* they know me. And Mom introduces me to everyone we pass, just to be sure. It's like being the prizewinning pig at the county fair. Seriously, Wilbur in Charlotte's Web got less attention than I did this morning. And he knew the interest in his well-being was going to prevent him from becoming sausage, so he was cool with it. Me, not so much.
You see, I'm shy. No one reading this will believe it for a second, but if I had the choice of meeting a stranger or just walking by them, I'm walking by every time. Yes, I have friends and I am social with them. But I don't want to hug someone I just met simply because my Mom has told that person my biography. And I hate Hate HATE it when that person says "Now, you're the one who lives in
I think next time, I'm sleeping later, going to St. Mark's and I'll just meet them for lunch.
