2002-07-10 - 12:57 a.m.

These are not my people. I'm sitting at a table at Jeff's Catering in Brewer, Maine, on Saturday night, writing this on an envelope for my mom's oil bill. I'm at my step-brother Jason's wedding. My neck is sore from dancing last night, it's cold, it's raining, and all I can think is, as happy as I am to be here to support Jason, I'd love to be in Harvard Square, rockin' with the Ethnix. My mom has tried to figure out why I won't let her read my diary but she just read "These are not my people" over my shoulder and said it was harsh. I think now she understands why I don't let her read it. And yes, maybe it does sound a little harsh, but as my beliefs are swaying from agnosticism to atheism, being at a wedding full of very devoted followers of the Bible will do that to you. These are people who think listening to the pastor preach for twenty minutes about things seemingly unrelated to the actual wedding is okay before the actual wedding bit. People who seem to have no problem with repeated references to the bride needing to live in submission to the groom. People with Jesus fish and corsses adorning their cars. If they knew the books I'm reading and writing, I feel like these people would bludgeon me to death with huge wooden crosses. I hold no ill will toward these people for their beliefs. I may disagree with them, but I'm willing to accept their beliefs as their own. I'm simply not one of them. And I sure wish I was in Harvard Square right now. The Ethnix start their set in 27 minutes.