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Author Topic: The "New" Online Confessional  (Read 13999 times)
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« on: March 31, 2017, 01:49:05 PM »

Anything you wanna get off your chest?


I do have something, and since I can no longer tell the person it happened to, I figure I'll unload here on this rainy, slow day at work.

In college, since I almost never drank, I was given the honor of being the "shaker" in a beer roulette contest one winter night during a televised hockey game.

If you're not familiar with beer roulette, someone who is not drinking breaks down a six-pack, tall boys preferable for added effect, shakes one can vigorously until its contents are roughly as volatile as an equal amount of nitroglycerin, then mixes it back in with the other five cans so no one knows which is the dangerous one. Then one of the players takes a can of beer and opens it directly under his or her nose, touching the nostrils. If it's the can that was shaken up, foam and beer flood up inside the person, similar to waterboarding, bringing on choking and sneezing and coughing, to the certain delight of those in the group who didn't have it happen.

Well my confession is that particular night some devil of temptation got the best of me and I went in the kitchen and actually shook up every can, guaranteeing whoever went first was going to get a live round straight to the brain.

As ill-luck would have it my friend Amy drew the short straw to go first, and I cringed and almost stopped her but didn't, and she got it full force straight up her nose, like an elevator of beer that sent her hacking and wheezing and blowing foam out of her nose while she turned all red, to the almost hyperventilating laughter of the others there.

I did think fast enough to knock the other cans off the coffee table while helping Amy, so there was an excuse for why they were all little time bombs, "they rolled across the floor" and no one really knew what I'd done. I got away with it and didn't even write about it in my diary, when I'm usually detailed in there. (Boy am I.)

Well, Amy lost her battle with cancer last month, I never told her I cheated and stacked the deck with beer roulette, which to her credit she laughed about that night once she could breathe again, and I can't say I ever felt all THAT bad about what I did, it was funny, but what the heck, let's let the truth come out here:

IN 1998 I IGNOBLY CHEATED AT BEER ROULETTE!

Mea maxima culpa!
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #1 on: April 03, 2017, 02:51:20 PM »

I confess today I gave the intern I like least the most distasteful assignment of the group.

I also pointed a gun at someone. Not loaded, and if it had been the shot wouldn't have killed him, just left him celibate. He took it in stride.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
indianasmith
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A good bad movie is like popcorn for the soul!


« Reply #2 on: April 03, 2017, 05:37:56 PM »

Today I made a reasonable facsimile of a human head out of a giant ball of tinfoil and put it on one of the top shelves in my classroom.
I plan to tell next year's students that it is the actual foil wrapped, severed head of a student that displeased me.  TeddyR
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"I shall smite you in the nostrils with a rod of iron, and wax your spleen with Efferdent!!"
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #3 on: April 03, 2017, 06:27:33 PM »

Today I made a reasonable facsimile of a human head out of a giant ball of tinfoil and put it on one of the top shelves in my classroom.
I plan to tell next year's students that it is the actual foil wrapped, severed head of a student that displeased me.  TeddyR

Well they say 'tis better to be feared than loved, Indy.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
Alex
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« Reply #4 on: April 04, 2017, 04:19:04 AM »

I had my cousin Fiona, her wife Claire and Fiona's daughter up staying for a long weekend last week. In the town next to where we live their is a garage with an old jet airplane sitting on the forecourt (a Buccaneer). As we were driving up to where the garage was I told them up ahead was the garage where we refueled our aircraft. Although initially sceptical when they saw the plane sitting there they were convinced I was telling the truth. They now think that combat aircraft drive along the road to load up with regular fuel.
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But do you understand That none of this will matter Nothing can take your pain away
Trevor
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« Reply #5 on: April 04, 2017, 05:09:42 AM »

Today I made a reasonable facsimile of a human head out of a giant ball of tinfoil and put it on one of the top shelves in my classroom.
I plan to tell next year's students that it is the actual foil wrapped, severed head of a student that displeased me.  TeddyR


 Buggedout BuggedoutBounceGiggle BounceGiggle BounceGiggle

I wonder why that made me think of this

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I know I can make it on my own if I try, but I'm searching for the Great Heart
To stand me by, underneath the African sky
A Great Heart to stand me by.
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #6 on: April 05, 2017, 02:02:22 PM »

When I was almost sixteen I had a tennis injury that resulted in my being off school for a whole quarter, and I had a tutor who was in grad school, mid-twenties, who would come to my house, and soon it became like he'd mostly hang out there rather than teach, we'd talk about things, I was sort of coming back to life again after being utterly messed up by my accident, it was cool, and then in January I went back to tenth grade, and we actually had a strong connection to where he said call him anytime, and I said thank you.

So I think he was the one who called me first, I'm not sure, maybe I called him and said it went well starting back, but anyway, we did end up talking, a couple times we met up and had a soft drink, shot the breeze, it was all good, but as days went on and I got back into regular life and put that era behind me, I started associating him with the chapter when I was recovering, and it got to be a time I wanted to think about less and less, so I stopped calling him, he called me, asked to meet up, I did once or twice, life went on, but he kept calling me, and I could tell he didn't get it that I thought of him as being part of bad times. I never came out and said that's how I felt and it made me a little guilty to think that way.

So one evening in the spring after I went back to class he called and said hey meet me at (this diner type place called) Frisch's will you? I remember I felt slightly annoyed by him asking me to go there but I did, and ended up sitting in his car with him, and why it caught me as such a surprise I don't know, but very much against my wishes, he tried to...have a go at me. And got relatively far along. Well, not that far, maybe, but it was well into the realms of some sort of indecent assault.

I wasn't like some shrinking violet victim, it made me livid at him and I told him so, and he stopped, and the thing was, he was genuinely shocked that I was mad at him, like he thought we had some intimacy, some relationship, I guess.

Well he started apologizing all over himself, scared, just blabbering, and I was kind of like, "Uh-huh, yeah, fine, that's cool." I just wanted out of his car. And he looked like he was going to cry. He said he thought I felt something for him (which I had when he was my tutor, but it was just liking him as a cool older guy who took me seriously to talk to, I had someone else in my life).

I went home and had the weirdest impression that despite being fairly nice looking he maybe didn't have "romantic" experience, that he seriously thought he was...doing what you're supposed to do. He sure had zero aptitude in his fumbled pawing.

He was terrified, though, and if I had wanted to press charges he'd have made it too easy since he called me and said how sorry he was, he was wrong, he was ashamed and embarrassed, not only didn't deny what he did, groping me and everything in his car, he repeatedly referred to it. He literally begged please don't tell anyone, I am not a predator, I thought you liked me, I have never done anything like this and never will again, I am a good person, I wasn't your tutor anymore and haven't been for months, etc. etc. etc.

And though some people I've told about this have blasted me saying I had a duty to report him since he worked around teenagers, I didn't. I can't say I was traumatized by what went on, just mad and left self-doubting, thinking I guess I was dumb to have misinterpreted him. Someone said because I was technically overage in my state and he wasn't my tutor and he did stop, I didn't have much to blame him for. Whatever. I don’t know. At the very least it wasn’t cool, at worst it was assault.

Okay, it gets weirder.

A year and a half in the future, I was in twelfth grade and I had all my graduation credits except for the final English course, and the class they stuck me in to fill my schedule was this simple survey time-killer called Science I. (after I'd just gotten honors in AP Physics the last year), filled with C and B level 9th graders, and I was the only 12th grader in it, but irony of all ironies, the mother of all weirdness, guess who the teacher in that class was?  Yep, my one-time tutor.

Strangest of all, though, he was as great a teacher as he was a tutor. I mean really good. Everybody liked him, he got the kids to get better grades, he was involved, he kicked butt in there. And though I was on edge at first, the entire duration of the class he never once via word, deed, look or thought betrayed that anything sordid ever happened between us. He even announced to everyone that first day that he used to tutor me when I was a sophomore. He wasn't cold to me, he wasn't nervous, he didn't favor me, he made jokes to me sometimes, and it was Twilight Zone surreal, and I'd sit there listening to him teach and think, "How are you doing this? Are you really that good? Did you white out that night in your mind? Was it never as bad as I thought it was?”

The damndest thing was, I actually enjoyed being in his class. It was one of the few good parts of a high-pressure, disillusioning senior year.

One more wrinkle to it all....

About a decade after I graduated, I was walking a mall, in a strange mood, and who do I see coming toward me but my would-be molester, his wife (who is also a teacher), and they're pushing a stroller with a little girl in it. I don't know what got into me, I got this adrenaline rush of indignant feeling and I walked a beeline over to them, introduced myself like he wouldn't know me and reminded him I had been in his class and he once tutored me, which of course he remembered, said something that he alone would get, a reference to what had happened in his car, shook his wife's hand, and leaned down and even touched his little girl, who was maybe a year old, on the chin. Then still sounding cordial and smiley, walked away.

I soon thought, why did I do that? Why?

Very soon after that, he showed up at my house. He showed up when I was alone, and three things registered instantly: he somehow knew where I lived, he somehow apparently knew when I'd be there alone without my roommate there, and he was enraged and freaked out. I had confronted him around his wife, I had physically touched his child, I had pushed some buttons in his head and scared him, potentially endangering his career and his domestic life, and I while I was hostile to him at first I suddenly got this vibe off him that was....scary. I thought frightened people do bad things sometimes, and I had definitely frightened him by approaching him and saying what I did. I thought how if my roommate came back and found me dead I don't think suspect number one would be a teacher from the decade before. I got a feeling he was in this spooked state that was dangerous.

And---some honorary Texan me---I didn't even have a gun on me. :-)

Well, I have never talked so fast in my life, saying how sorry I was about what I did (which is true, I was really sorry, I shouldn't have done that) and I don't know why I did, I wouldn't again, it was actually good to see him again, could he sit and have some tea or something and talk a minute?

He calmed down fast and it was so weird but while he was there we had what could almost be called a friendly chat down memory lane, and when he left he was placated and in a good mood, himself again. But I still bolted the door when he was gone, got my Desert Eagle, and told my roommate (well, housemate, big place) how about we stayed gone a bit?

So. I admit I have looked at his and his wife's websites associated with their classes here and there over the last ten years, read their social media feeds on occasion, but I haven't contacted them again, and I still believe I was in a perilously iffy situation that day, and that he was in a dangerous state.

And that I was perhaps lucky.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
Allhallowsday
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Either he's dead or my watch has stopped!


« Reply #7 on: April 05, 2017, 10:35:39 PM »

Oh my I didn't read the last confession... cool.  Keeps the forum alive.   Thumbup TeddyR 

Read it now... that's some scary sh!t.  I am glad you are here.  Choices are the secret of survival. 
« Last Edit: April 05, 2017, 10:45:20 PM by Allhallowsday » Logged

If you want to view paradise . . . simply look around and view it!
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #8 on: April 13, 2017, 11:35:28 AM »

I feel bad. I was a complete jerk to someone Sunday, who bought my daughter a nice birthday present today. I wonder if I still have the personalized horsehair robe they gave me when I graduated from Catholic school?
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
AoTFan
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« Reply #9 on: April 16, 2017, 01:25:01 AM »

I don't know.. not sure there's anything really want to get off my chest in an open forum like this.  But maybe I'll think of something minor I wouldn't mind sharing...
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ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #10 on: April 18, 2017, 12:59:06 PM »

There is said to be a hereditary demon in my paternal bloodline that skips generations, and then infects all those in the next. In my generation.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
AoTFan
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« Reply #11 on: April 19, 2017, 11:29:07 PM »

I was in a situation once where I had a roommate who I didn't get along with so well.  In my humble opinion, I tried really hard to talk to and find a bridge to connect to him with, but it just didn't seem to work.  I remember one time I went into the room and, noticing he was reading something, I asked, "Hey, man, what are you reading?"

No answer.

I figured maybe he didn't hear me, so I repeated myself, louder this time.

Still no answer.

Then I repeated a third time, and I have to admit, I was getting a little annoyed.  I find someone deliberately ignoring me like that to be a bit off-putting, to say the least.

So, I repeated myself and he replies, "If I didn't answer you the first time, what makes you think I'm going to answer the next three?"

And I'm like, "Well, what's the deal, why are you ignoring me?"

"Cause you're being nosy.  It's none of your business what I'm reading."

I'm like, "I'm not being nosy, it's called, 'Trying to make conversation.'"

"No, you're just being nosy!"  

After a bit of back and forth, I said, "Look, if you don't want to talk to me, why don't you just say something like, 'Gee, Mike, I'm sorry, I don't feel like talking right now.' You know, that would be the polite thing to do."

And he's all, "I shouldn't have to, you should just quit being nosey."

So, I got frustrated, and I said, "Fine, you don't want me to talk to you?  I won't.  You can just sulk there in silence, I don't care anymore."

And here, I admit, I may have went too far...

"Just remember this though, years from now when you're sitting at the nursing home in your old age, dying, and you look around and wonder why NO ONE'S come to visit you, I want you to remember this conversation."  
« Last Edit: May 01, 2017, 08:50:38 AM by AoTFan » Logged
ER
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #12 on: April 20, 2017, 11:34:04 AM »

When I was twenty-one I started plotting a murder.

This man had unintentionally caused someone I loved to die, and in my extended and all-possessing grief I found my thoughts turning toward striking out against him. At first these were only stray pinpoints of ideas in among my pain, but little by little I found the notion solidifying until one day I realized how dangerous was the flower this little seed of mine had bloomed to be, and it came to me that almost without trying I had conceived of a plan that would probably have worked and might even have let me get away with it.

My reaction was to feel fear because it showed how much some portion of my brain had been working on this plot, so I shut down all thoughts of the idea of revenge, never acted on them, and in time I went on to meet this man and pay him a thousand dollars to tell me about that day from his perspective, which he did, probably to my detriment since there are things I now know that I shouldn't.

Instead of being cathartic his account made me want to hurt him all over again, but I didn't. I hate violence and have been exposed to more of it than I should have, considering my personality and how it bothers me when I think on it. So, I confess, once when I was grief-stricken I came up with a way to kill the cause of my grief. I'm glad I didn't, not the least because he now has children, and they never hurt anyone, and I doubt I was ever that serious, but I did dwell on the idea and entertain it until it was far beyond where it should have been.
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
ER
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Karma: 1753
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The sleep of reasoner breeds monsters. (sic)


« Reply #13 on: April 26, 2017, 10:56:40 PM »

I confess I believe it's stupid to still divide a circle into 360 degrees, even though we're long past knowing the year does not have 360 days, nor is each day/degree governed by a divine figure active only on that day, as the Babylonians thought. I confess I have always thought of circles as circumscribed by 100 degrees, which makes more sense. If the world can mostly convert to metrics, and the English give up their beloved coinage system for a decimal-based one, why can't humankind adopt a 100-degree circle, since any division of a circle is arbitrary anyway?
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What does not kill me makes me stranger.
AoTFan
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« Reply #14 on: April 28, 2017, 01:22:06 AM »

When I was twenty-one I started plotting a murder.

This man had unintentionally caused someone I loved to die, and in my extended and all-possessing grief I found my thoughts turning toward striking out against him.

(snip)

in time I went on to meet this man and pay him a thousand dollars to tell me about that day from his perspective, .

Damn, ER, n/o but your life sometimes sounds like a 10 part mini-series that I've just walked into episode five of...

This whole brings up so many questions, but I'm not sure you'd actually want to talk about of them..
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