The word “confesser” does not exist in the English language, but it is a French verb for “to confess” and I believe everything is better in French, and I will die believing that.
Also, a confessor is someone that you confess to, so that makes us both really really caught up in all this. Welcome.
My topic is everything.
I never intended for this blog to become internationally renown and visited by millions of people, so I guess it’s good that that never happened. I mean, I bet people really hate it when that happens.
The most important thing, I think, is to not think too much. Sometimes when I wake up in the middle of the night and think clearly, I realize that what I posted on my blog was significantly more ridiculous than I really am, so consider this my alter-egoblog. Stop playing and admit it: anyone with a blog has
some kind of ego. Mine is altered.
Somewhere between being a nerdy, awkward teenager with braces and whoever I am now (less nerdy and awkward, fewer braces) lies a nice young girl with an itch for travel, genuine spirituality, good and lengthy conversation, discovering the stuff between the lines, being excessively sarcastic, and knowing God in all the little crevices of life, like the stuff under your nails but cleaner and holier.
It’s not your fault that I’m so friendly.
I’m a (registered!) nurse with a raspberry-colored stethoscope, a graduate student with dreams of prescriptive privileges, a Christian, a friend and daughter and now, an insecure blogger.
I’m young and somewhat restless; I’d like to make you laugh.