forgive me, for i have sinned...

by pure fluke, i am taking an atlantic canada literature class this semester... i half expected it to be a bore, but it's turning out to be one of my favourite courses... it is certainly putting to rest my ignorant ideas of atlantic canada as a region teeming with anne of green gables imitations and road to avonlea-esque tales of young romance and proper attire...

the other day we got on the topic of guilt... religious persons are apparently deeply attached to ideas of guilt, which got me thinking about my own stances concerning it...

i feel guilt because i lack that religious drive... my nana is hardcore catholic, to the bone... i can't even stand to make it through a 45-minute service without checking my watch... when i was little, my brothers and i questioned why our church didn't seem as fun as those ones that "black people went to and sang at..."

for my early childhood i donned my sunday best and attended sunday school, learned about the big guy and jesus and all those apostles and such... i took the bread and blood... but then once i left the church it all became a distant memory as i scarfed down greasy bacon and scrambled eggs...

my guilt lies in the fact that i don't feel as though i am a religious person... church stirs up memories of my mother singing angelically, those dreadfully uncomfortable pews, the smell of old lady perfume and my brother making shadow puppets on the floor -- not memories of beautiful sermons and meaningful passages from the bible... i'm a faker... i attend when it's a special occasion or when i'm prompted by family members... and i just know everyone in the parish can smell my guilt... plus, i think at christmas one of them caught me making shadow puppets... i'm totally busted...