It was less then a refuge. When I walked in the church, it looked like I entered a whole new world, much, much different from my own.
I thought evangelicals were the crazy ones. But after my visit to church, I now know Roman Catholics can have be the crazy ones too. More like the craziest ones, actually.
From the top back of the church, I heard optimistic music. I felt uneasy hearing the music. Maybe it was because the lyrics were corny and the tune didn't sound intriguing.
It was obvious that the music was being played by a synthesizer and a guitarist was in the back strumming along. All around me, Roman Catholics were singing along. Some were out of tune and it was easy to find out who it was.
The Mon Signor was Filipino. (My Grandma said he was more than a priest, but less than a bishop. A Mon Signor is, I'm assuming, in the middle.)
Pretty much every Filipino person I know is highly involved withthe Roman Catholic church. Every church I attended in New York, about 25% of the people inside at that moment were Filipino.
My grandma, who's Filipino is all Jesus & Christ. "Pray for them." She usually tells me, when time of need or help. (Which is basically all the time.)
There are always ups and downs istting in church pews. Sure, occasionally the pews will be uncomfortable. But that's not really a down.
It's where you sit that matters. Sit in the way back and you'll see immensly observant Roman Catholics stare you down. Sit in the way front and you're bound not to fool around. (Examples include sleep, write, talk on your cell phone, etc.)
If a priest catches you "fooling around" you'll be bitch slaped by the Virgin Mary. And if you sit in the middle, you can be affected with at least one of the cons. Especially when you are very observant.
It's even more embarressing to come to church super late. Not that I'm saying come fourty-five minutes early. Just don't come late when many of the seats on the edge are filled.
That's when you have to ask someone to move a little so you can sit. Plus, I've noticed that many Roman Catholics are nosy little creatures. They will look at anyone who is late. Or, perhaps they just look because they are already lost or bored on what the priest is saying so they need something to focus on.
On Friday, July 14, 2006, me and my grandma had a different "pew" story. I don't know why my grandma is obsessed with finding her perfect church seat. She always wants to sit on the edge and likes to have a good view. (She's about the height of an average 10 year old.)
There was a pew that was vacant, I tell my grandma to sit there since nobody is currently sitting on that specific pew. But then she goes to the next pew in front of it. It has only two people but I tell her "Look. There's a seat that has absolutely no people!" Despite my what I told her she attempts to sit on the pew with the two people.
However, a lady walks quickly to us and says rudely, "This is my seat."
"Bitch." I quickly say to myself. Trying not to say it out loud since I'm at a church. But jeeze, this is a church, not a Marilyn Manson concert.
We found another seat nearby and I caught a glimpse of the lady. She has a small head. Her face looked scrunched up with a pig-like nose along with duck lips. I didn't find out her name, nor do I want to anyways. All throughout the sermon, she sometimes looks at me. I stare her down meanly because people like her piss me off.
In the pew in front of me, there was a middle-eastern man with coarse hair. He kept figiting and picking his skin. And his head was moving vigerously. He wore a checkered colar-shirt. The checkers were colored blue and white. I instatley think he's possed but I later believe he has Parkinson's disease. Looking at him at that moment, his right hand was picking the left side of his face. He may even have ADD.
On that same pew, but a couple feet away, there was a man with a half head of hair. He looks like he's in his late fourties and early fiftys. He kept sneezing and he smiled at me a couple of times. I sometimes get uneasy when men of that age look or smile at me.
I'm getting older and some how looking more and more lady-like. I think I inheritied my mum's "sexiness". Which really sucks because I'm so used to have people saying I look young for my age. But that hot day in July, I looked about 21.
I'm writing mostly all of this entry during the sermon. And even while the whole church is supposed to stand up, I'm still writing. (I first wrote this on a back of paper the church gave to everyone who came in. A program, I believe. I then transfered it into the computer.)
Part two of this entry will come soon.
Authors note
This entry is solely about my experience during the ceremony feast of the Our Lady of Mt. Carmel. (The word feast was an overstatement. There was no feast.)
It was held at Our Lady of Peace Church in New York City. The day was July 14, 2006.
As mentioned before, I wrote a large sum of this entry during the sermon. I didn't have a laptop, but I used the back of the paper where it supplied the lyrics of the songs that were going to be sang during the ceremony.
I made sure nobody saw me while I was writing. I mostly wrote sitting down, but I even wrote when the church stood up. Again, I made sure nobody saw me.
The reason why I'm calling Roman Catholics evangelicals because on that day in church the people attending the ceremony acted like Evangelicals. I'm not saying ALL Roman Catholics are Evangelicals, but the attendes at the ceremony were acting like them.
And, I believe in God. So I'm not an athesist. Or a stantist. So don't send me letters.
