Shame Therapy


I rollerbladed around campus a lot in my first year of college. And once, I slipped and crashed into a girl walking in the other direction. Argh. She screamed, I said, “Sorry,” while picking myself up. Yes, I was a wiener freshman.

Dead Pianist

The church choir had been invited to sing at another church. We sang, and the pianist’s playing was much slower than what we were used to. Later on, in the Choir Room, I loudly lamented, “The pianist is so DEAD! Her playing is so SLOW!” — unaware that she was still in the same room, and within earshot.

I avoided all eye contact with her the rest of the day, and I’ve wondered since then if she remembers my face. I hope not.

Reception Faux Pas

Major social gaffe: Paulo’s poor face-name recognition strikes again. After Vic’s wedding, I was introduced to a cousin of the bride, an English teacher at the High School. I said Hi and exchanged some banter, then went on to other people. Later on at the reception, she greeted us, and I, forgetful me, didn’t know who she was anymore — while she remembered me. I completely mistook her for the bride’s sister, and remained clueless for all five sentences before I realized who she was and who she knew I thought she was.