Bad Mormon

Sometimes Mormons ask themselves, "What makes a good Mormon?"  Today I just wanted to know, "What makes someone recognizable as a Mormon?"

I have been told on at least a dozen occassions, "I had no idea you were Mormon!" 

I went to lunch with Jack yesterday.  (Doesn't it seem like all my stories begin with lunch?)  We were chatting about who-knows-what and then Jack casually mentioned, "Lanie didn't know you were Mormon."  Yes, someone I've known for two years thought I wasn't Mormon.  Not just that, but she was specifically under the impression that my family was Mormon, I was raised Mormon, but I wasn't Mormon any more. 

That seems like a high level of detail on the Not Mormon Front. 

Jack asked if that hurt my feelings, and I said no.  The thing is, I've gotten this for years, from both Mormons and non-Mormons, friends and strangers.  But even though I'm used to it, I'd like to know what vibe it is about me that leads people to this conclusion.  I have a few theories, but I'm not sure any of them really explain it.

The Swears
My excessive cursing didn't really flare up until age 22, and I've been attempting to tone it down in recent years (if only in acknowledgement of the fact that professional adults don't use words like "douchebag").  I did get the "You're Mormon?!?!?!?!" look of shock before 22, however.

So it can't be just the swears.

The Slutty Clothes
Again, only somewhat indicative.  The number of times I have truly skanked it up remains relatively small (a Tri Delt formal or two, perhaps a Halloween or New Years party in years past), but I do have a tendency to occassionally wear shirts that, um, perhaps could lead one to an incorrect assumption about my religious practices.  (I defend this one as not my fault, however.  I've talked about my wardrobe malfunction problems, correct?  Perfectly appropriate shirts will just suddenly betray me, those jerks.)

The Lack of Babies
I have begun to notice that when I attend traditional Mormon gatherings, I do lack certain accessories.  Specifically, a nattily dressed toddler.  (I kind of want to start renting my cousin Abbie's, because hers are appropriately darling.)  Of course, motherhood doesn't necessarily equate to Mormonhood, even in Utah.  But a baby wearing a designer headband comes pretty close.

The real problem is that if it's lack of progeny that gives me my Not A Mormon Vibe, (A) Why the hell have I prompted these "You're Mormon?" questions since HIGH SCHOOL?  What is wrong with you people? and (B) There's really not a lot to be done about that.*

The Gay Friends
Here's the thing -- lots of Mormons have gay friends. But I also know that other people would deny this fact. (You know, mostly dicks.) (Sorry, No-Swearing-Resolution.) Since I have recently noticed that my Gay Male Friends now outnumber my Straight Male Friends, perhaps this is it?

Of course, there's really nothing to be done about this one.  I love all my gay boyfriends, and straight man friends are kind of like endangered animals -- their numbers dwindle due to jobs and girlfriends/wives, and once their population has been decimated, more can be hard to come by.  So that ratio probably won't balance anytime soon.  

The Sarcasm
My friend Sally once told me that she will never be able to fit in with our fellow Mo-Mos because her spirit isn't sweet enough.  The same goes for me.  The thing is, like Sally, I have no desire to conform my sense of humor to Ward Sense of Humor.  No, I will not laugh at that terribly lame joke you just told in Sacrament Meeting.  I will begrudgingly fulfill my callings, but I will never gush over the many wonderful opportunities texting girls every month about their visiting teaching affords me.  Raising my hand during the Good News Minute will NEVER HAPPEN.

But the thing is, the fact that I glare my way through church can't be why people don't view me as LDS, because well duh, if they were in church to witness the glaring, they'd know, right?  And for people who witness my finer moments of bitchery outside the wardhouse ... well, actually, this one might be the answer. 

If it is, however, I think I'm just going to live with it.  After all, I like being a bitch. It's who I am. And, as the Sunday School song rightly points out, Jesus still loves me, yes He does.

Any thoughts, e-friends?  If you had to pick one thing about me that says, "Not Mormon," what would it be?  (And if you can think of it, do you think it's chanageable?)




* (PS: Don't worry though, if I haven't trapped some man into marrying me by my 30th birthday, and my backup fiance is unavailable, I'm going to implement the Angelina Jolie lifeplan by adopting some beautiful multicultural kids and stealing some other chick's husband. 

Now guess if I'm joking.)

The sads

I've been in a bit of a funk lately.  (Trying to get out of it, so don't worry.)  But I realized something today, as I sought some solace in the form of cookies, caramel and chocolate (with a side of Diet Coke.)  When I was in junior high and high school, the vending machines always provided us hyper little teenagers with the freshest licorice, chewiest gummies, fluffiest Three Musketeers imaginable.

But every workplace I've ever been in has vending machines which provide stale, melted, chocolate-so-old-it's-turning-white fare. 

Being a grown up is the worst.

On nights like this ...

I wish I drank.

The Utes lost.  (I would be comforted by the fact that TCU is the cat's pajamas, and we put up a more respectable fight than BYU did, if not for the unhappy truth that we had a dozen penalties and multiple fumbles.  Sigh.)

I wore snow-inappropriate footwear.  (Status: feet still basically frozen.)

My brother Alpha is acting like he's on his period.  (Hey, I can make misogynistic comments, I'm a girl.)

Basically that's it.

But the first one alone had me looking longingly at the margaritas at Kate and Ryan's.

Having a collegiate moment

At the Salt Lake Roasting Co., enjoying a cookie and steamed milk while I work on a fellowship project leftover from my law school days. 

Surrounded by hipsters and one guy who kinda looks like Emmanuel of homeless-dudes-who-kidnap-teenage-girls-fame.  One particularly granola looking couple appears to be on a blind date.  One girl who looks like she hasn't slept in awhile is struggling with calculus and flirting with her study-buddy.  (The flirting appears to be going well.)  There are peacoats and scarves EVERYWHERE.

Had no idea how much I missed the pseudo-life that students lead.  Sigh.

The bitter barn

Last night I went to my sorority's Founder's Day, which is a celebration commemorating the founding of a greek-letter organization. (In my case, Tri Delta.)




As some of you may know, my sorority was shut down my senior year in college, right as I was graduating. There are about a million and one reasons to be furious about the action Tri Delta Nationals took regarding our chapter, none of which I particularly want to recount now.



What was frustrating to me -- and what will most likely be frustrating forever -- is the fact that some of my fellow Delta Delta Delta alums want to forgive and forget about that whole house-shutting-down thing.



Um ... no. Not going to happen. That's awesome if you can do that, but I can't.



And I don't want to talk about it.  And I don't want to hear about how you re-discovered the true spirit of sisterhood and the power of forgiveness.



Look, I know I joined Tri Delt for the sisterhood, not just the physical house. But I joined to be part of something lasting, not something that ended when I graduated from college. I want to go back and help with Rush. I want to send flowers on Bid Day. I want to donate money during Philanthropy week. I want to show up for Initiation if I'm in town. So don't lecture me about why I really joined -- I know why I joined, and it's not just so I can be an alum of a house that doesn't even exist at my alma mater anymore.



The fact that I will never, ever give another red cent to Tri Delta Nationals? Never going to change. The fact that I will never, ever think of "Nationals" the same way I think of my local chapter, or people from other local chapters? Nope, not that either.



So yeah, invite me to alum events. I want to maintain friendships, I want to keep raising money for children's cancer hospitals. I want to persue the (extremely unlikely) possibility of our house re-opening.



But don't try to make me leave the bitter barn. That's where I live now.

Child's play

I went to lunch with Sally again today. 

She got an assignment last night at 6.  She worked at the office until 8:30, blowing off her boyfriend (cue Sally shrieking, "He is NOT my boyfriend!"), going home for dinner, and then continuing on the work until midnight.  Then she got up early and went in to the office again, finishing up the research and writing it up.

She was clearly stressed, as this issue was (1) complicated and (2) meant something, in the sense that her research and writing was going to be used by someone, and therefore affect some client, as opposed to all the assignments we did as summer associates, where our work meant little-to-nothing to no one and nobody. 

Finally she calmed down long enough to take a bite of her sandwich.  "How is work going for you today?"

I thought for a second.  "Well, I had to go to Michael's to buy a gift basket and some rafia."

Pause.

"And then later I'm going to go around and get the office Christmas cards signed by everyone."

Cue Sally glaring at me. 

11/11/09: Veterans' Day

As we express our gratitude, we must never forget that the highest appreciation is not to utter words, but to live by them.

- John F. Kennedy