E
Epistemes
Guest
God, I’m tired of writing threads on this forum – but I’m even more tired of being confused, frustrated, and angry as a result of trying to be Christian or Catholic or whatever it is that I am.
God, what a horrible evening.
I really didn’t want to go to Eveline’s going away party, but I figured that since she and I work side by side, and since we have formed something of a friendship, even though it won’t last once she goes her way and I go mine, I owed her as much as to show up at her going away party at the local sports bar, right? Right. But why did Leigh have to be there? And why did Marty and Scott have to be there? I now remember why I stopped hanging out with those guys: because not only am I *so uncool, but I have nothing to say to them about anything because all they want to talk about is them or what ballgame is on TV, and I got fed up with trying to be something I’m not. And when the going-away party consists of Leigh and Eveline having a conversation about nothing I’m particularly interested in, and Scott and Marty talking about the ballgame on TV, what a load of fun I’m having! And my soul begins to sink deeper and deeper into claustrophobia because I want to try to be friendly and smile and laugh at people’s jokes, but when it seems like everything other thing is something rude or profane, you begin to wonder, right? Especially since I was planning on attending the Advent penance service – it’s not like I needed to add on to my list! (But I did by telling that horribly offensive joke – which goes to show I’m just like *Scott and Marty when you get down to the nitty gritty. In fact, I’m actually *worse *since I seem to think I’m somehow better than them due to my fear of associating with them as if they’ll taint my conscience!)
And so I left.
I left and went to the penance service – my soul taking consolation in the fact that I could confess my sins and find its repose with God. And I feel really sorry for ever telling that stupid, offensive joke. And I feel sorry for being so unfriendly and unloving. And for thinking I’m somehow less sinful than Scott or Marty, hypocrite that I am. And there are ten priests which I can choose to confess in private with, and who do I pick? No, Lord, I don’t pick either one of the friars who I am familiar with, I pick the Irish priest who I not only have a hard time understanding but who doesn’t even allow me to confess all my sins, including the sin regarding that offensive joke. Oh, sure, I was nervous because I hadn’t even completed mentioning my first sin before he starts talking to me about this and about that, asking me questions, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to segue back into confessing my other sins not relating to this topic of conversation we’ve entered into. It’s not that what he had to say was wrong or that I shouldn’t consider it, and, in all honesty, I may find more truth in his words when I’m not as frustrated and angry as I am now. But I had other sins to confess, and I didn’t get to confess them. I didn’t forget them; I just didn’t have the opportunity to confess them! I don’t even know what my penance is! One moment I’m being given advice and then the next moment I’m being absolved of sins I haven’t even confessed! And I don’t even know my penance!!! I wasted an hour waiting to confess to your priest, Lord, and for what? For the chance to have to go back in two days to confess to someone who I understand and receive an actual penance and receive an absolution which comes after truly confessing my sins!
And now, look at me: sitting here pitying myself while my dad wrestles with the same horrible cold symptoms he’s dealt with for two weeks now, and my mom with a splitting headache, and the homeless with nowhere to sleep tonight in this cold, damp weather we’ve been having. I feel sorry for myself for feeling sorry for myself.
I’m sorry I’m such a failure, Lord. I’m sorry I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing. And I’m sorry for troubling everyone else with my stupid, self-centered problems when they have problems of their own.
God, what a horrible evening.
I really didn’t want to go to Eveline’s going away party, but I figured that since she and I work side by side, and since we have formed something of a friendship, even though it won’t last once she goes her way and I go mine, I owed her as much as to show up at her going away party at the local sports bar, right? Right. But why did Leigh have to be there? And why did Marty and Scott have to be there? I now remember why I stopped hanging out with those guys: because not only am I *so uncool, but I have nothing to say to them about anything because all they want to talk about is them or what ballgame is on TV, and I got fed up with trying to be something I’m not. And when the going-away party consists of Leigh and Eveline having a conversation about nothing I’m particularly interested in, and Scott and Marty talking about the ballgame on TV, what a load of fun I’m having! And my soul begins to sink deeper and deeper into claustrophobia because I want to try to be friendly and smile and laugh at people’s jokes, but when it seems like everything other thing is something rude or profane, you begin to wonder, right? Especially since I was planning on attending the Advent penance service – it’s not like I needed to add on to my list! (But I did by telling that horribly offensive joke – which goes to show I’m just like *Scott and Marty when you get down to the nitty gritty. In fact, I’m actually *worse *since I seem to think I’m somehow better than them due to my fear of associating with them as if they’ll taint my conscience!)
And so I left.
I left and went to the penance service – my soul taking consolation in the fact that I could confess my sins and find its repose with God. And I feel really sorry for ever telling that stupid, offensive joke. And I feel sorry for being so unfriendly and unloving. And for thinking I’m somehow less sinful than Scott or Marty, hypocrite that I am. And there are ten priests which I can choose to confess in private with, and who do I pick? No, Lord, I don’t pick either one of the friars who I am familiar with, I pick the Irish priest who I not only have a hard time understanding but who doesn’t even allow me to confess all my sins, including the sin regarding that offensive joke. Oh, sure, I was nervous because I hadn’t even completed mentioning my first sin before he starts talking to me about this and about that, asking me questions, and I don’t know how I’m supposed to segue back into confessing my other sins not relating to this topic of conversation we’ve entered into. It’s not that what he had to say was wrong or that I shouldn’t consider it, and, in all honesty, I may find more truth in his words when I’m not as frustrated and angry as I am now. But I had other sins to confess, and I didn’t get to confess them. I didn’t forget them; I just didn’t have the opportunity to confess them! I don’t even know what my penance is! One moment I’m being given advice and then the next moment I’m being absolved of sins I haven’t even confessed! And I don’t even know my penance!!! I wasted an hour waiting to confess to your priest, Lord, and for what? For the chance to have to go back in two days to confess to someone who I understand and receive an actual penance and receive an absolution which comes after truly confessing my sins!
And now, look at me: sitting here pitying myself while my dad wrestles with the same horrible cold symptoms he’s dealt with for two weeks now, and my mom with a splitting headache, and the homeless with nowhere to sleep tonight in this cold, damp weather we’ve been having. I feel sorry for myself for feeling sorry for myself.
I’m sorry I’m such a failure, Lord. I’m sorry I don’t know what in the hell I’m doing. And I’m sorry for troubling everyone else with my stupid, self-centered problems when they have problems of their own.
