8:38 p.m. - 2006-04-13
Today, as it is time to leave my place of employment, I push the button for the elevator. There are only two floors above ours in the building, so usually, there's not anyone on it. Today, there was your basic casual-business type lurking in the corner.
I got a "go to hell, bitch" look from him when I stepped on the elevator, leading me to believe that Mr. Important was in a hurry. Fortunately, the elevator didn't stop again on the way down. Since I was toward the front of the car, I exited first, and heard him behind me. Well, given that I'm still not walking at full speed all the time, especially not at the end of the day on the slippery-ass floors downstairs, I moved to one side of the hallway so that Mr. Hot Shit could go around.
He walked slightly behind and to my right, where I couldn't see him but could feel the irritated vibe coming off him in waves. The exit is a revolving door. I reach it first, and once out, move to the side again. Blessedly, he passes me...but gives me another "fuck you" look.
Seriously. I am not grandma driving in the fucking fast lane, fucknut. I tried to get out of your oh-so-significant way. But YOU, instead of choosing to take the lead, decided to blind-spot walk and then act like a penis.
So anyway, he must have either been somewhat "important" or moved his car, because he had the primo first spot in the parking garage.
[Quick Sidebar: At this point, I need to do a brief overview of our parking situation. There are two garages (one open, one being constructed) and a semi-garage which is really like a multilevel open lot (yes, it's as whack as it sounds). I usually park in the lot, because the first four floors of the garage are reserved, so it takes forever to park there, and the elevators are slow. So I generally just park on the upper level of the lot. To get to the lot, you have to go around or between the garages. You can't really go between them, because of the construction. So currently, the fastest route is through the garage.]
Of course, Mr. Bigwig is driving some huge black Excursion with one of those annoying-ass noisy mufflers, and of course, he practically mows me down (complete with yet another death-ray stare) on his way out.
If he's parked there in the morning, I may have to really restrain myself not to do something. Nothing really DESTRUCTIVE, mind you. I wouldn't slash his tires, or key those ginormous shiny black doors. No, no. That would be overkill, in addition to being really wrong. However, smearing the rest of my Medicated Lip Balm (the stuff that's like Carmex, only in the little blue jar) under the driver's door handle? That might be fun.
On the way home, I saw a license plate which gave me pause.
No, that's not a picture of the actual car...I have no digital camera at the moment. I made it. But that's what it said, and that's a close approximation (though less shiny and chunky) of the frame which surrounded the real thing.
I'd have to say that one is up there with a few others I see regularly during my less-than-10-minute commute. My current favorite is the one on the expensive SUV that says "IOUGSUS". (And this chick really does, because she drives like serious ass. For real. I see the idiot at least a few times a week, and she usually cuts me off, nearly sideswipes me, tailgates, or all of the above.) My second favorite is the one that says "GODFILL."
These license plates, though, remind me of why I don't like organized religion...especially not the version of Christianity practiced here in the Bible Belt.
Remember Sunday School? Where you heard about lambs and the sweet little unassuming Baby Jesus and sang the song about how Jesus loves everyone of every race and color (even though it's a little on the politically incorrect side - "red and yellow, black and white")? Remember how it was all about the love and the sharing and the doing unto others?
Well, that was all fine and good...until high school. Then one day, I'm sitting in Sunday School (strangely enough, on our old couch, which my parents had donated to the church, and which no longer had ANY sort of springs), and we get into this discussion about eternal life. And our teacher goes off on how nobody but the Christians get to go to heaven, and that means that all those Buddhist and Hindu and Jewish kids you hang out with and really like and who are mostly fairly good people? THEY ARE ALL GOING STRAIGHT TO HELL.
Experiences I had after that point...especially after moving here...solidified my position that this was bullshit. But that was the moment where my faith really died. I didn't understand...and still don't...how a religion that was persecuted for centuries and whose tenets include love and compassion and understanding can think it's okay to turn around and deny access to those who practice all of those teachings.
There is a huge dichotomy in almost all religions (not all, but a lot) between the idea of an all-knowing, all forgiving God...that somehow won't forgive you if you believe one prophet over another. And unfortunately, it is this schism that makes it possible for those who profess to practice the principles of Christianity to use those principles to justify nothing more than intolerance and hate. Racism. Sexism. Homophobia. People use the Bible to "prove" that all of these things are okay. No, not just okay. Sanctified.
I'm not saying that all Christians believe this way, or that going to church or following a religion makes you a stupid sheep. Far from it. I think that if something helps you get through the day...and it works for you...then do what makes you happy. I have a lot of respect for those who actually practice what they preach. My voice teacher in high school was very devout. But she was also very real about it. One story kind of stuck out...she and her husband did wait until they were married to do the horizontal mambo. She confessed, though, that they had moved up their wedding plans because they didn't want to wait any more. Also, despite having a huge number of hardships to deal with: a child with cerebral palsy, not much money, not being able to accomplish all the things she wanted to career-wise...she maintained a positive and optimistic outlook on life, and she was always very peaceful to be around. She was a great teacher. She pushed me to accomplish things, and she made me believe I was talented and special. There was never a feeling of competitiveness, or jealousy, or any other negative emotion.
People like her give me hope, and temper my own negativity toward religion. I try to remember that exists, when most of what I see is "holier-than-thou" bullshit, religion for show, going to church because everyone else does...or putting some lip service to religion on your license plate.