I am a bad, bad pagan
It's Samhain today. For me, a religious holiday, with a lot more significance than little devil children running around in plastic costumes, begging for candy.
Today is the day when the veil between this world and the next is the thinnest, the day when my loved ones are most likely to visit me, to check up on me. Today is the day where I remember, with love, those people that passed on.
I should have an altar set up, especially for my grandpa that just died. I don't.
My housemate is really uncomfortable with my religion. She normally chooses to ignore it, even calling me the least religious person that she knows (and not understanding why that might offend me). She thinks that the ceremonies that I perform must be wrong and says that she won't live in the same house as a Tarot deck.
Yep, found this all out after moving in with her.
It's not that she explicitly asked me to not put up an altar, but she flinched when I metioned it and said, "Well, I just won't come home that night."
It's not exactly her fault - her religious intolerance, that is. After all, she was raised in the family that puts the fun in fundamentalist Christianity. They actually thought that the Smurfs were little blue devils and wouldn't let her watch the Smurfs for her entire childhood.
But ... this is getting old. I have to get out of here.