TweetIt might be my catholic upbringing. It might be the fact that I can’t stand for people to overstate/overthink anything I do. I confess everything. Ask Nick. Ask my friends. Previous teachers.
It’s like my THING. I have to be really straightforward and honest so people don’t have the wrong idea about me.
In the sixth grade, I wrote my teacher Mrs. Colopy, arguably the most formidable teacher in Northeast Ohio of 1991, telling her that during a math test, I glanced at my neighbor’s test – purely out of sheer frustration that I couldn’t get a answer – completely forgetting that that is called CHEATING and I’m supposed to keep my eyes on my own test.
I went home and felt sick to my stomach. I barely talked. I let my siblings tease me without any retorts or side comments. All I could think of was one simple fact: I CHEATED.
So I wrote a letter (this is a trend in my life).
She pulled me aside the next day and the most formidable teacher in NE Ohio of 1991 smiled sweetly and gently said, “I think you have some overactive scruples there, kiddo. Don’t worry. You’re a good kid.”
I felt light as a bird. I was going to pass 6th grade after all! Looking at someone’s test for a nanosecond didn’t banish me to the third ring of hell! HOW FORTUNATE WAS I?!
While I’m no longer writing letters that I cheated on math tests, I do feel the need to confess. I confess that I watch Jersey Shore and Awkward on MTV. I confess that I sneer at people who drive mammoth SUVs on the road, but I will sometimes choose my car when I could take my bike. I will spend $10 on a good block of cheese without thinking twice. Hoard freebies at a conference or at a hotel. I’ll go out of my way to avoid small talk with people I don’t know well and secretly pretend I have to use the bathroom or forgot something in the car to buy a minute or two by myself. I say SAVE THE ANIMALS but I smash all insects in my house with a triumphant stomp and yell. I honk at any car that is pacing in the left lane and ask to see restaurant managers when I think the service was lousy. I secretly hope someone forgets that they lent me their good pen and will pretend that I’m interested in buying something at Trader Joe’s just so I can have a sample of their latest creation. I lie to brides and say they look great when they look mediocre and say “How cute is he?” even to a not so good looking baby.
I confess that I think our judicial system is effed up but sometimes want to be a lawyer. I don’t believe the prison complex does anything for society but I am ashamed to admit that I want to put rapists and sexual assault perpetrators in dark, small places and forget about the key. I adore my child but am not a “I LOVE CHILDREN” person (I’m just all about my own kid…). I keep buying fresh produce at the market even when I know there’s a 78% chance it will not get eaten. I work for the church but sometimes wonder what in the hell we are all doing on Sunday mornings gathering together to eat donuts after mass to look at pasty art on grade school walls. I’m not for the NRA but have an overwhelming desire to shoot a gun.
I’m addicted to the academic schedule but believe the ivory tower is churning out more soldiers than free thinkers. There isn’t enough money in the world. I keep 60% of all the greetings cards I receive thinking I’ll recycle them somehow. I exaggerate. I pretend that I like John Mayer’s music. I plan escape routes in every house I sleep in in case of fire and only think about saving Isaiah. I like to be scared by movies don’t like being frightened by reality.
I confess to know myself better. I confess to know Why I am the way that I am. I confess to familiarize myself with the curvy pretzel twisted value system I have deep in my heart. I confess to make myself feel better and to make my quirky nonsensical habits a little less secretive.
I confess to spill the beans, to sift through what is important and unimportant.
I confess, mostly, so I can move on from it.