Crime of Life
Friday, October 23, 2009
Confessions
One of the things that you have to get used to when going to a Roman Catholic school is its many customs. Frequent masses, classes, and religious overtones from teachers who don't necessarily believe themselves.
In seventh grade we had an introduction to confession. The entire class gathered in the gymnasium, every person sitting on mats apart from each other. We were told to think of something to confess to the priest that day. I was hardly prepared. I remember sitting there quietly, looking around at everyone else deep in thought, watching my classmates get up one by one to confess and leave. That's all there was to it, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything. So I just sat there feeling badly about not having anything to feel badly about. But it was mandatory, so I made something up. I don't recall what.
Today, I wonder how many religious people in the world are like that little boy I was, sitting among the masses, confused but going through the motions. I wonder how many of those people are religious simply because they're told they are. ¶ 10:40 AM
In seventh grade we had an introduction to confession. The entire class gathered in the gymnasium, every person sitting on mats apart from each other. We were told to think of something to confess to the priest that day. I was hardly prepared. I remember sitting there quietly, looking around at everyone else deep in thought, watching my classmates get up one by one to confess and leave. That's all there was to it, but for the life of me I couldn't think of anything. So I just sat there feeling badly about not having anything to feel badly about. But it was mandatory, so I made something up. I don't recall what.
Today, I wonder how many religious people in the world are like that little boy I was, sitting among the masses, confused but going through the motions. I wonder how many of those people are religious simply because they're told they are. ¶ 10:40 AM
Wednesday, October 14, 2009
Bureau
There is an e-mail lingering in my inbox from one of my former college instructors.
My college days are best summed up as a brief sprint through personal growth. I moved out on my own when I was nearly 20. At that point, I'd never really tried smoking grass, had never had a girlfriend, had never even been kissed. In my first few months, all of this changed. At the time, I couldn't appreciate the affect that it was having on my life because I was so eager to be a different person. So eager to change.
The course I took in college was much too easy for me to excel in. Without trying, I achieved consistently high grades. And so in the second semester, I stopped trying altogether. I skipped a lot of class, stopped doing all but the large projects, and coasted through. But before the final project was announced, I found that my calculations were incorrect. I had a failing grade.
I went to the department head one afternoon, a charming and eloquent old Scotsman named Mr Bureau, and discussed my grade. He must have recognized my potential, because he gave me an extra assignment to bring my average up. I did this assignment with the diligence of the first semester, passed the course, and on the last day of class, I'll always remember what he'd written on the assignment when it was returned to me.
It read, in part, "you have everything you need to be successful."
Clearly this has always stuck with me, only brought to sudden memory now that I've heard of his passing. Thank you, sir. ¶ 9:41 AM
My college days are best summed up as a brief sprint through personal growth. I moved out on my own when I was nearly 20. At that point, I'd never really tried smoking grass, had never had a girlfriend, had never even been kissed. In my first few months, all of this changed. At the time, I couldn't appreciate the affect that it was having on my life because I was so eager to be a different person. So eager to change.
The course I took in college was much too easy for me to excel in. Without trying, I achieved consistently high grades. And so in the second semester, I stopped trying altogether. I skipped a lot of class, stopped doing all but the large projects, and coasted through. But before the final project was announced, I found that my calculations were incorrect. I had a failing grade.
I went to the department head one afternoon, a charming and eloquent old Scotsman named Mr Bureau, and discussed my grade. He must have recognized my potential, because he gave me an extra assignment to bring my average up. I did this assignment with the diligence of the first semester, passed the course, and on the last day of class, I'll always remember what he'd written on the assignment when it was returned to me.
It read, in part, "you have everything you need to be successful."
Clearly this has always stuck with me, only brought to sudden memory now that I've heard of his passing. Thank you, sir. ¶ 9:41 AM
Monday, October 5, 2009
Sloan
I was listening to Sloan the other day, really enjoying the album, and a memory took me back to high school. A friend of mine mentioned them, a new favourite of his. But I was still into the top 40 radio hits, so I teased him about it. Yeah, as if I had some kind of musical authority to critique his preference. And now that I am a completely different person than I was then, I find myself wishing that he was around to apologize to. It might have been different.
¶ 8:18 PM
