So, what, exactly, am I doing this for? What are my motives for blogging? Is it some form of exhibitionsistic therapy? Am I hoping to cure my personality flaws by writing about them in a semi-public manner? Do I secretly hope to escape lonliness by making a deep, heartfelt connection with some, as yet unnamed, person out there? Do I want to get famous? Am I doing it 'cuz it's cool now? Am I doing it for myself, whatever the hell that means?
I honestly can't say. It bothers me a little; I like to know my motivations for things. It's probably all of the above, plus more I haven't even thought of yet.
Hey, some Mormons just came to the door! When I was younger, like in high school, I used to secretly think they were so cool. The guys would be in their white button-up shirts and ties and black pants, and bicycles, you can't forget the bicycles. I think bikes were a large part of the mystique. I even wrote a play in which a Mormon missionary played a pivotal role. Honestly, I don't remember much about the play, but it definitely involved a Mormon.
My husband was raised Mormon, though now he's anything but. According to him, he rebelled at a young age and now he's sort of areligious. As for me, I'm a mostly non-practicing Muslim. We certainly have an interesting relationship, a black, semi-practicing Muslim woman married to a white, non-practicing Mormon man.
Anyway, the Mormon church is apparently like the Mafia, because it wasn't very long after we moved here that we started getting visits from the missionaries. They weren't just garden-variety 'can-I-interest-you-in-the-Book-of-Mormon' type visits. They knew my husband's name and knew he was Mormon. To me it was very weird and somewhat unsettling.
The guys have always been very nice, though, mostly young men in their early twenties. I probably wouldn't choose to have them come over (I am fascinated by, and even a bit envious of, true belivers, I have to admit, but they make me nervous). It doesn't seem bother my dear husband, though. He probably likes the company.
They usually drop by unannounced once every couple of months. We'll sit and chat for a while, they'll invite us to church, we'll say 'maybe' and that's it. I would like to go to a Mormon service one of these days, but I'm not really interested in converting (I have plenty enough guilt not following one religion; I don't want to add another one).
Anyway, I told the Mormons that my hubby wasn't home and they said they'd come back later.
This entry started out as one of those navel-gazing, whiny diatribes about me and ended up a cool story about my encounters with Mormons. I'd never even met a Mormon until I joined the Army, and, oddly enough, I met several, not including my husband. I used to joke with him that the Mormons would first take over the military on their quest to take over the nation, then the world. Aren't they non-violent, though? Maybe I'm thinking of Quakers. My fascination with Mormons may have something to do with the fact that I used to get them confused with the Quakers.
Oh, well. This is long enough, and probably not nearly as interesting as I think. My new blog-goal: weather pixie. Watch this space (or somewhere on this page).