meltdown, or, just melty

Even after becoming an atheist, living in sin, and not attending mass except for when your parents make you go on Christmas, sometimes that Catholic upbringing comes back to haunt you. Sometimes it makes you buy Virgen de Gaudalupe air fresheners for your car. Sometimes it makes you unbearibly neurotic with the anger/guilt combo induced by your mother nearly weeping when you tell her you've chosen the Dark Path of Art School and she responds, "You're leaving me just like I left [my mother]," and "My stomach really hurts now." And then you want to drink a lot and also get a tatoo that says "I BROKE MY DEAR OLD MOTHER'S HEART" on your forearm, which, come to think of it, puts you in kind of the same league as Britney Spears, except that she's probably Methodist or whatever and did it out of spite/insanity and not as a penance for being the worst daughter ever and breaking your mother's heart with your selfish, selfish educational pursuits.

And sometimes it just makes you see the Virgin Mary in a grilled cheese.

Mmmmmmm, grilled cheese.