I’m catholic. I (think) I understand what confession means. If you ask me when the last time I confessed was, I’ll say it was a few months ago. I told a girl how I felt about her. She sent my backside to the friendzone.
The last time I knelt and told a priest, “Bless me father for I have sinned” was in April 2017. I poured my heart out to the Lord’s servant. When he said, “Your sins are forgiven,” I felt like a kite, light flying high. Then I became uncatholic-like. At my next visit to the confessional, I’ll have a thick list of my trespasses that the priest might give me a truck load of penance to do. I don’t know if I’m ready. But the Bible says, “Come as you are,” right?
Sometimes I play games with Google Assistant (GA).
“Ok Google, tell me a joke.”
“Here we go,” it’ll say. “What do you get when you put a vest on an alligator? An Investigator.”
I’ll laugh and try something else.
“Ok Google, surprise me with something fun.”
It’ll say, “I’ve got a pickup line for you. Is your name Google? Because you have everything I’ve been searching for.”
Yesterday I told GA it was boring. Its response?
“Oh dear, Sorry to hear I’m not floating your boat.”
Am I afraid that my phone is listening to me? Yeah, sometimes I am.
One other thing. I still dip cookies in my tea. I’ve never outgrown it.
This one is just to fill in the space. I used to run a blog called Confessions of a Pakwach Boy. It’s not online anymore. I don’t know where it is.