In the past week I’ve had two of my supposedly antiquated viewpoints on life questioned. I’ve really had to give it some thought. But I’ve decided… no, the questioner was an idiot and I’m still right.
I’ve always been proud of being a New Zealander, and calling New Zealand my home. I’m pretty sure 4 million people share that view. My attachment to NZ and to my kiwi identity were only strengthened by travelling overseas. They increased again last week in relation to nationwide All White fever. Not because I care about sport, because I don’t at all, I just thought it was awesome how we all banded together and we were so proud of our boys getting one goal! Even to the point of considering a national holiday to celebrate. (On a side note, it’s pretty funny how surprised we all are when NZ does something well!).
Anyway, the key word here is pride. I have it, and I’m not afraid to say that. So when someone was waxing lyrical about how disguasting tattoos are, I decided to display mine in an act of defiance. They grimaced at the Southern Cross on my shoulder. “Why on earth did you get that?” they said. “Why?” I replied. “I’m proud of being a kiwi. I’m showing my identity.” “So you did it for pride?” they say. And when I nod, they sniff and go “There’s a reason pride is one of the seven deadly sins, you know.”
Um, wait, WHAT?
Apparently, I’m sinning by being proud of New Zealand, and proud of being a New Zealander. Somehow, I don’t think so. And if I am, show me one person in the last two weeks who wouldn’t join me in hell.
I couldn’t get away without being obvious, and unlike some I’m a polite person, so I then sat through a brutal attack on the institution of marriage, and anyone foolish enough to still believe in it.
Not only am I a sinner, I’m a sinner who is doomed to fail in life and be alone and unloved.
Oh well, at least I’ll have ten cats to talk to. I hear they can be pretty proud of themselves too.