in remembrance of me eat these braaaaaaaaaaains

Went to Mass twice this week. The first time was on Christmas Eve, which I didn't mind because it was a family thing, like temple. I did not like the church that Mom and Grandma took us to--the priest didn't seem to know what he was talking about, and I hate it when religious officials are less informed about their faith than I am. It makes me feel like a know-it-all brat. He gave a long speech about the commercialization of Christmas, heavily relying on the use of the phrase "X-Mas". The problem here is that "X-Mas" is actually a very religious usage--it dates back to the very earliest Greek Christians, who used the Greek equivalent of "X" (chi-ro, I think) as a code word for Christ's name in order to escape persecution. I really wanted to tell him about it after the service, but Mom thought it'd be far too rude to correct a priest.
I did manage to distract myself during the communion by:
• Wondering whether zombies had a religion, and if so what they thought about life after death. (I think about zombies when I'm bored. Zombies and sex.)
• Agreeing with my little brother that the priest blessing the wafers looked a lot like Emeril going "BAM!"
• Making up a philosophy of religion based on the existence of chocolate. It schismed over Hershey vs. Godiva.
The second Mass was today. Mom and Grandma dragged me to a Healing Mass. I am not sure why; I don't think I've given them any indication that I need to be healed of anything. The monk (an actual monk, with robes and everything! They still wear them) came around and blessed everyone, first with a relic, then with holy oil. I scrubbed off the holy oil but I've still got a big red blistery spot where he put it (IT REACTED WITH MY ACNE MEDICATION I AM NOT ANTICHRIST SHUT UP).
Mom wants to go to another Mass on Sunday. Apparently there is a very nice church called Kirk In The Hills which has a relic room and has tours after Mass. I don't think I could take another religious service this week, no matter how cool seeing rotted bits of dead holy people might be.
Story idea: Cloning saints. Or possibly zombie saints.

Have been working through huge pile of books I checked out from local library. We went in to pick up a book on tape for Mom, I gravitated towards the SF section and went a little nuts. I've got two Connie Willis books that I've read before but I love--one is called "Bellwether" and is honestly more sociological fiction that science fiction. The other is "Passages," is about a scientist who is studying Near Death Experiences, and is currently sparking a weird "Re-Animator" idea in my brain. I've also got a story collection that's supposed to contain stories that reflect the cultural and social issues of the 1950s, a couple of Nebula collections, the aforementioned Harlan Ellison collection, "Idoru" by William Gibson, and a Rudy Rucker collection.
Have also been trying to listen to "OK Computer," but it's not nearly as good as I thought it would be. The songs sound all the same except for "Fitter Happier," which I think is sung by Stephen Hawking. It is making me want to write about paranoia, though. But I've already used up my allotment of Philip K. Dick for this fandom. "Diamond Dogs" is up next, and after that I'll make a playlist of dystopian songs. Maybe I'll write something about a dystopian future. Would that be too depressing? I like dystopian futures. I like depressing things.

Apparently I am an INTP or NTIP or whatever you call it. Personality test thing.