Confessions of a Coward Under a False Sense of Bravery

In the Roman Catholic Church, absolution is gained through the act of confessing sins or problems to a priest. The idea is that if Catholics ever expect to get to heaven, they first must let go of their conflicts and burdens, ask for reconciliation from God, and then promise that they will never ever commit those sins again.

Growing up in Catholic household, I participated in this rite several times. There were two ways in which we could go about wiping our souls clean: facing the priest and honestly revealing ourselves and our transgressions as we sit before him, or remaining anonymous by hiding behind a thin partition of intricate woodwork. In the few times I had confessed my sins or let go of my troubled mind, I chose to remain nameless and concealed myself behind that screen.

Forgive me, World, for it has been seventeen years since my last confession. Since that time, I have strayed from my spiritual roots and chose to confess my sins and express my mind through the Internet.

Hmm… I guess not much has changed.

Oscar Wilde wrote, in The Picture of Dorian Gray, "It is the confession, not the priest, that gives us absolution." When we confess, we really just need to let go of our inner conflicts, whatever they may be. Wilde even assumes that confession does not have the religious connotation as it did in the past, for the priest does not absolve us. In today’s technological world, the Internet is the modern day confessional, and the confession ranges from secret sins to blatant rudeness.

When it comes to confession, there are some people who find strength behind an alias. We have this false sense of courage because we tell truths that we would not openly say to a person's face. We say that we are “being honest,” but does it count when we hide behind the screen? There is no honesty when we still hide something. When we discharge our hateful thoughts, proselytize our radical ideas, and eject offensive words, we do not always filter what escapes from our lips. Why filter the words when we have filtered our identity? We sit behind a computer screen and then justify our behavior by lying to ourselves that we have not broken any rules of social decorum.

Many of us--Catholic or not--have chosen this great technology as the vehicle for testimonials, yet continue to hide behind the computer screen or some false identity. We unleash a horde of confessions--sinful or not--because we look for absolution or affirmation from a network of cyberspace strangers. Just like in the Church, we seek for conformity and acceptance with other Catholics; we certainly don't want to burn in hell while everyone else has cleansed their souls to get to heaven; whereas in society, we seek that comfort when we know that there are others "like us." We divulge our opinions and feelings because we hope someone will listen and accept us for who we are. For some, to be accepted by the world or by anyone is simply heaven. The Internet has become the new Church, where everyone worships only themselves and confesses their indiscretions and animosity towards each other.

I begin to wonder how much I have confessed or shared my life on this blog. I do not seek acceptance or absolution, so what am I confessing? What am I sharing to you? Although I've opened up on some personal matters, I feel anonymously safe because I'm behind the screen. For so many of us who have impersonalized blogs, like mine, ones that have very personal thoughts and stories, we are comforted by the fact that we have not stripped to our bare identity and then asked to step out from behind that technological partition. We would be completely naked without our alter-ego and our computer monitor; in essence: we would be facing the priest. That is a frightening prospect: when the world knows of your sins and can put a face to them, the revelation is the apex of vulnerability.

Whether you are a coward or a hero, confessing openly is sharing everything about yourself—all your goodness and your iniquities—and then trusting someone to care and accept you while you're still vulnerable and exposed.

For many of us out there, that's still hard to do.

Widening My Horizons

I got an email from the Department of Defense last month, asking that I update my application if I still wanted to be on their database. As I clicked on the link, logged into my account, and reviewed the application I wrote in 2001, I thought of the possibilities that could have happened in my life.

I love teaching and traveling. Working for the Department of Defense would have merged these two things--teaching overseas in military bases. I wanted to live in Japan for a couple years and then in Germany, too. I would have lived on base, gained civilian-military status, paid off all my debt while enjoying the luxuries of diverse cultures and societes.

Although my parents and friends say that I'm at that age where I need to settle down and start establishing roots--the genealogical kind--I feel that I need to accomplish as much as I can while my roots have not yet taken root, so to speak.

With that, I updated my application. As I wrote more paragraphs to describe my skills, clicked on all the qualifications that applied, and revised my references from college professors to colleagues and supervisor bigwigs, it made me realize just how much I have grown and developed professionally in my career. I may not have established genealogical roots, but my professional roots seem to be firmly planted. Do I really want to leave all that to start over in another country and in another educational environment?

It was a question I pondered for five minutes, and my final act was clicking on the "SUBMIT" button... for the 2009-2010 school year, the school year after next. I can't leave this place just yet. There is still some major ass-kicking to do at the district.

I'm going to play this by ear. I don't count on being hired; after all, my first application was back in 2001 and they interviewed me three years later. Although I would love to have a job with the Department of Defense, I wouldn't be disappointed if they overlook my application again. But if I am hired this time around, I'm ready for a change.

State of My Affairs

While doing my taxes, I always complain how much money the government takes from my paycheck, and sometimes I still end up paying more on April 15. I don't understand how a teacher--who still spends $1000+ on yearly school supplies (books mostly)--still has to pay. I mean, I practically donate my money back into the classroom, and all I get a $250 deductible. It's true that I don't have any kids of my own to spoil, so my money goes back into my work where I use it for the students anyway. Tax time makes me realize the futility of my job and that it really is a thankless career to the government and to the politicians.


Then I realized this ugly thing about taxes--which has nothing to do with my job. As my brother-in-law breathes a sigh of relief at how easy his taxes are, especially since he's married, I begin to realize that married people have it easy with their finances... and how Christian values have influenced the machinery of economics and government. Married couples--people who have dual income--get less money taken from them, but a single person like myself is squeezed dry like a broken piggy bank. I think that's our government's way of promoting nuclear family values: "Get married, procreate, and we take less money from you because you are ensuring the security of American morality." But if you're single, the government will punish you: "We'll take more money because you are living the hedonistic life and promoting immorality and breaking down family values."

I'm not poor, but when my money is taken from me, I really feel cheated and unappreciated. Not to mention that I feel like that half the year already from the shit I have to deal with from school district bureaucracy. I'm a teacher and unappreciated. I'm single and I'm scolded financially. I live in California, the most progressively backward state in the Union.