A confession:I’m awful at coming up with column ideas last-minute.After spending a lovely weekend that included an artificial horse insemination and a nighttime picnic at the park,I found myself utterly screwed for the upcoming week.Rather unfortunate,since all my major papers and midterms seem to fall on this week.
Anyways,since I seem to be failing at life,I decided that I might as well go ahead andpop out a seriesof confessions,mostly because I can’t come up with a better idea (sorry). Also,I find it comforting to hear about how people fail more than I do,soI might as well provide that same comfort to all of you.
Confession:I watch crappy television.Actually,that’s not the truth – I watch almost no television,but last week,I picked up MTV’s new reality show, “The Paper.” Already,I fear that I may soon be sucked into this awful piece of trash.Maybe I like watching the heightened melodramaticsof high school journalism,or maybe I canrelate to the idea of a power-hungry,obnoxiouseditor-in-chief (ahem,Eddie Lee).
Confession:Iam an awful,lying tour guide.When an old schoolmate called me and told me that sheand her boyfriend were inDavis to do college visits,I took them on a grand tour of the campus. “And here we have ducks,” I told them as we passed the arboretum,unsure of what else to show them.And then I took them to the ARC. “This is pretty cool,” the boyfriend said. “Yeah,it’s really convenient,” I said. “I really love it.” The truth? It was the first time I’d stepped foot in the ARC since my freshman year in the dorms.Yikes.
Confession:I suck at the “healthy living” thing.My roommate Yvette and I are going through this phase where we’re trying outbeing healthy.Radical,I know.So far,this involveshalfheartedlyexercising andmunching oncelery stalksandbaby carrots whilesighing wistfully over our cravings for hamburgers anddeep-fried anything.It’s onlybeen two weeks,butoccasionally I try to cheat.Yesterday I found myselftwo seconds away from buying a lemon bar when my friend Jayne nudged me. “What would Yvette say?” she chided.I sighed and went back to my carrot sticks.Let’s see how long this lasts.
Confession:The binder of Pokemon cards in my room has been opened more recently thanmy textbooks.Well,I’m just going to blame this one on nostalgia.I solemnly swear I no longercollect (or play!) though.Those days were left behind with the end of middle school.
Confession:When stressed out,I read crappy young adult fiction.I refuse to elaborate or provide specific titles here.Nor am I going to admit to whether or notthey were young adult romances.Or vampire novels.
I grew up hearing the word “confession” in the Catholic sense.That is,I saw it as something obligatory but terrifying,kind of like goingto the dentist to get fillings.
There’s something aboutlaying bare your secrets to a stranger sitting behind a screen that just seems soshameful.Even when you’re confessing something stupid,like, “Two weeks ago,I hit my brother over the head with a tennis racket,” the fact that you have to do a penance makes the situation so much graver.
But maybe confessions don’t always have to come with punishment; maybe they can just stand on their own.I think thatit’s possible to take ourshameful little secrets and offer them without fear of judgment or retribution.Maybe it can be a kind of catharsis; sharing your misdeeds andpersonal failures can bring you closer to your friends and help you to leave behind your supposed sins.
All I know is this– today I found myself sitting on the grass with some friends,our legs crossedas we confessedsecrets andstories with unfortunate endings.The cold change of weather brushed at my cheeks and at the sleeves of mysweatshirt,but I could swear that there was some warmth to be found in our huddle of friendship.
TERESA PHAMneeds you to bolster her self-esteem.Sendmoments of personal failure toterpham@ucdavis.edu.XXX
