My head feels odd. There's a pain behind my eyes, and my nose feels like I've sniffed some sort of chemicals straight up it (which I haven't, thanks for asking). And my leg itches. And the cheesy, garlic-y bun I had earlier gave me heartburn. Perhaps I shall develop a tragic illness, and they'll make a movie about my struggle to survive, where I find my true love and myself in the process *cue violins*.

Or, perhaps I need a nap.

Speaking of movies, I will be truly glad when "Passion of the Christ" is over and done with. Nothing against the Christian religion, or Mel Gibson, but that movie has caused nothing but grief for me as of late. I keep getting asked if I've seen it yet, and I keep having to say no. This, in and of itself, is not what annoys me, it's the resulting interrogations I have to go through afterwards.

"Why haven't you?"

"When are you going?"

"Everyone who calls themselves a Christian needs to see this movie."

I then have to go through the painful process of explaining to them that I don't call myself a Christian, that I probably won't ever be going to see the movie, and because, as a person with mostly pagan beliefs, I don't think of the bible as anything more than a book of stories written a long time ago by a handful of men who took it upon themselves to tell people how to live their lives, subjugate women, and discriminate against people of other races and sexual orientation. Therefore, I have no interest in seeing a movie about it.

Something must go off in their brains at this point, some spark of inspiration. Maybe, unbeknownst to me, I've been walking around all these years with a sign over my head that reads "Save me!", because that's just what they try to do: convert the heathen pagan who has not yet seen the light.

Well, I saw the "light" a long time ago my friends, and I turned my back on it for a reason. I tried being Christian for a while (All my friends were doing it!) and I hated it. I was uncomfortable in a religion where questions are frowned upon, where I was told to believe in a book that contradicts itself many, many times within it's very own pages, where I was taught to love my fellow man, just as long as he was white, straight, and was born in the right country. I was uncomfortable period.

So, I explored my options. I looked into Buddhism, I looked into Judaism, I looked into Wicca. I read everything I could get my hands on when I hit that last one. Finally, I moved away from Wicca. I realized that there is no one true religion that encompasses my beliefs. Therefore, I classified myself as pagan. I am of the spirituality that existed before Jesus, before Christianity spread across the world and dominated every nation like a fever. The spirituality that, in my opinion, is the basis for Christianity, is the influence behind the magic of their religion.

I am comfortable with this. I have been for a long time. So, to have people I barely know try to convince me that I've made a mistake, or imply that I'm too stupid to realize "the one true faith" is maddening, as well as downright insulting. I have nothing but respect for other people and their beliefs, so why do I have to put up with people questioning and mocking mine?

I don't mean to offend anyone, but this has been really bothering me lately, and as this is my diary, what better place to air my frustrations, right? I think the idea of love and trust in the Christian religion is beautiful, but it gets lost when people take the Bible too literally, and use it to further their own twisted agendas.

*Sigh*.

In other news, I rented "School of Rock" tonight, and those kids are beyond fucking cool. I wish I could rock half as hard as they do.

Miss Black

Listening to: "The Immigrant Song" by Led Zep.

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Miss Black also contributes to a David Anders/Sark site under the name Chaton Espion. Feel free to visit her there if you'd like to witness the terrifying depths of obsession.