Thursday, April 21, 2011


Conversation on the phone today with my devoutly Catholic mom.

Mom: Did you get my e-mail?
Me: Yeah, I did.
(the email was reminding me about mass today and tomorrow and an inquiry if I would like to go with her. She even lured me with buying me dinner afterward, because she's tricky like that).
Mom: Are you coming to Holy Thursday with me tonight? It starts at 6.
Me (hesitantly): I don't think so.
Mom: Well, what else are you doing?
Me: I'm going over to Alex's tonight to watch Thursday night comedies.
Mom: Doesn't that start until later? You know this is the most important time of the year. Beth is going with me, and she has plans afterward.
Me: I'm sorry...
Mom: Don't you care about your soul...

For those of you reading this who aren't familiar with Catholicism, this week is the most important and solemn Triduum comprised of Holy Thursday, Good Friday, and Easter Sunday. Sorry Mom, the only Easter related event I attended today was an office egg hunt at work -- an event that further convinces me even more that where I work is pretty much the world of The Office -- and egg hunts have much more overt paganism associated with them than anything else, to me anyway. It's conversations like these that gather this huge ball of shame and regret right in my chest, manifesting in that ever ubiquitous guilt trouncing my psyche and existence, and then spills over to every aspect in my life, whether it be getting ice from an ice maker, pouring a little extra Bourbon in my glass at Alex's tonight, or getting pissed at that pick-up truck that cut me off today. And that's why Christianity -- specifically Catholicism -- is a blast.


  1. Conversation my mom had with me today:

    Mom: I think I'm going to go to 7:30am mass on Sunday.
    Me: (silence)
    Mom: Because I don't want to pressure anyone to go with me, so I'll just go early by myself and get it out of the way.

    Except by saying that, she's totally making me feel guilty for not offering to go with her.

    it's okay, Michael. our souls will rot in hell together. It will be fun!

  2. Geez, that's so underlying, and that's how the C guilt works. Hell, I'm convinced, is going to be one massively fun party if (it doesn't) it exists. On the plus, you don't have to go to mass Sunday! I would probably be excommunicated from the Holladay clan if I just met them at the restaurant for brunch and skipped. So, I'll be there awash in the Liturgy of the Word and Eucharist. Maybe I will sneak in my ipod to jam some Adele or Robyn or the new This American Life or RadioLab. Ha!