Blogging hands are the devil’s playthings

Father, it’s been three months and 21 posts since my last confession. Things have only gotten worse with more time spent in the blogosphere.

I’ve become greedy, desiring nothing more than visits and comments. I ignore the realm of the spiritual in favor of the material virtual. Site traffic is now an end in itself.

I am envious of more popular bloggers, coveting their traffic and leaving breadcrumb comments for their visitors.

I erupt with anger when accused that I may perhaps be blogging too much. Impatience and self-denial are my new fall accessories.

Evidence of sloth can be found in my kitchen sink or in-box. I am apathetic, short of attention, and fall quickly into sadness if my stats are down.

I am a full-blown glutton for praise. So acute is my need for flattery that I offer it falsely to other bloggers. Comments are the new crack cocaine.

Pride may be my worst sin, Father. I am love with the word, but not His. On a given day I may post, edit, and re-read my work twenty times. I deceive myself into thinking that I have an “audience” and expect at any moment to be recognized on the street.

The only sin I seem not to have violated is lust. The blood flow to my nether-regions has been compromised from so many hours at the computer. I hardly think about sex anymore, but do enjoy blogging in bed from time to time.

How much worse could it get?