Practicing Catholics never feel honestly 100 percent absolved of their sins after confessing. At least, I never did. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, you're always messing up somehow. That's how they keep you coming back.
From Abby Sunderland's blog: I'm still trying to wrap my head around the fact that her and Jessica Watson (Both 16 year old girls) are doing something much more awesome then I ever will.
Easter is so not my holiday. As a matter of fact, no holidays are my holiday. I'm an only child so whatever. My roommate just took his bong back from me. So I went out and bought the biggest pipe I could. Spiteful? Yes, but now I get to enjoy "Toad" (that is it's name now), and he can sit in his room and brood. Plus on the bright side, I'm still a little drunk from last night. I have an open PBR (Hate PBR, whatever) right in front of me. I'm going down to my parents house in a few hours to get not only some prime rib, but some "family time". Hooray!
A great documentary that's available for instant viewing on Netflix. I highly recommend it, especially for you British Columbians. That's a very impressive system you have up there. The Union: The Business Behind Getting High
I feel like both of you are projecting your own feelings on Confession onto that. I might be wrong but I highly doubt either of you were ever really devout Catholics. I too was raised Catholic, made confession and all that stuff when I was young. And yeah, I never bought it. Never told the Priest one damn thing that was true for fear he'd tell my Mom or in some way use it against me. But there are people out there that buy that shit completely. I'm not talking about the average person here, nor even the average Catholic, I'm talking about the really religious ones. And yeah, maybe the guilt doesn't leave them completely or whatever, but I imagine it takes a load of it off. But, you guys are taking this too literal though. I was just trying to imagine what that would be like, thought experiment style. Maybe it'd be like cheating on a girlfiend, getting in a huge fight with her, then telling her the full honest details and having her forgive you completely and take you back. And not one of those backhanded forgivens either, where they bring up that shit at every oppurtunity, I'm talking she'd never even bring it up again. In that sense, yes, you probably still feel a little guilt over it, but it's all out in the open, and it has been forgiven. That's tits. Merry Easter. Though Easter isn't what has inspired my Catholic musings, it was watching Mad Men at 2 in the morning. Chyeah.
All I have to say is shower beers this morning due to the *wonderful* time I knew I'd have at Easter dinner. Then wine, now back on beer on my way to margaritas (I hope). I drink more when I have to see my family. If I post later, will probably be incoherent, so advance warning!
Just got this update on my phone: Just...wow. I wasn't around back in the day when this guy stalked Max, but he sounds nuttier than a squirrel.
Let me put it this way: at age 12, I was considering seminary. I didn't just drink the Kool-Aid, I showered in it. Persistent guilt is a cornerstone of devout Catholicism. It's tits, but it doesn't exist. Forgiveness is different than acknowledging a fuck-up and choosing not to talk about it. Someone can say they forgive you, but that doesn't mean that their trust in you isn't permanently damaged, or that they don't secretly resent you for your actions. That's why absolution is so attractive. You feel better about yourself without having to deal with the long-term emotional consequences of a bad decision.
I was never fully convinced this kid wasn't conducting some really twisted, intricate social experiment. Frankly, I'm still not.
Happy Easter y'all, I miss you lunatics! And if any of you hear from Jesus, tell him I've got the hammer and nails ready...
My son and I went out "exploring" today, and we went under a bridge that crosses a drainage canal. We saw a lot of black widows and other spiders, bird nests made out of mud, and incoherent grafiti. As we were prodding through a clump of jetsam, we spotted a CD. It was shiny side up, so he and I made a bet about what the content of the disc was (as we often do in situations where a decision has to be made): I said it was probably some spanish music, and he said it was probably going to be Guns 'n Roses. When we pulled it out of the mud, IT WAS A PORN DVD! (I forgot the title, it was featuring some starlet named Rachelle, Rayleen, something with an "R" and she was white.) And it was still playable! My first thought was: "Let's wash this off and I'll see what's on it!" But I couldn't do that. So I told him what it was, and lied and said that it was ruined, that's why it had been thrown away. Instead, I showed him how to skip a DVD (or any flat, light object) on water L'il Bandit said that we shouldn't tell his mom that we found it. I'm sure he'll brag about it to his friends tomorrow though. Ah, father/son bonding.
Since the weather is getting warmer, nothing like a root beer float with Captain Morgan's to cool you down. I mean, everyone knows that on the mountain of olives that's what Jesus was serving at the party right? Happy Easter/whatever the fuck you are doing.
My friends were supposed to come here today and we were going to feast on quiche, cinny buns and drink mimosas. Alas, their baby got sick, which in turn made them sick, so, the bottle of champagne was left to me and Mr. Pink to consume. One mimosa and several glugs of champagne later...I'm tipsy. My tolerance doesn't amount to much since I drink all of once a year. How I can type and keep a coherent thought in my head...I don't get it. One good thing Mr. Pink is enjoying is me opening in my robe and yelling "BOOBS!" for no reason. A tipsy wife is always fun if she's randomly flashing the goods. Ladies and gentlemen...the interviewer of sexual predators...and a flasher. I should be arrested. At least I'm not doing it outside the house.