I'm not going to lie to you. For one thing, that's no way to start a relationship, even a virtual one like ours. I figure if you're worth talking to at all (again, virtually)I might as well tell the truth. However, the truth is not always so easy to convey. It's often layered. Nuanced. It takes time. This is why I suck at cocktail parties. And mingling. But I digress.
Back to truth telling.
Here is one problem. I am not always so good at figuring out how much truth to tell. (See linkage.) And even when I have untangled that tricky web I like to refer to as appropriate boundaries--I am faced with another quandary. Whose truth is it, or said another way, if it involves another, is it my right to deconstruct (read confess)?
Allow me a hypothetical.
Let's say the other day a certain mother I know screamed at her children. Perhaps she said something like, I'm done! I cannot take another minute. You, Mr. are on your own. Charge your computer or don't charge your computer. Take your phone, or don't. (Pacing frantically, possibly flailing her arms.)Miss the bus; make the bus. Makes no difference to me. I'm out. Done. Who needs it? Not me, Mr. Not me. (Finds coffee, sips coffee. Refueled, continues.)It's a privilege (pauses, not sure where she's going with this) a privilege ... to have someone following you around picking up the pieces. A privilege.
Dream sequence fades to black.
Do you see where I'm going with this? Say this mother decides, hey, why not blog? I'm smart. I can stand still. Why don't I put pen to paper (Virtual people, virtual.) and spread my seed for all to sow (Last gardening metaphor. Promise.) Maybe I'll bond with other mothers. Maybe I'll unearth (oops. WTF? I live in Manhattan.) some sage (Really?) wisdom and someone will be the better for it? If nothing else, I'll have a legit excuse to delay those revisions beckoning in the corner.
But alas, I'm back to this:
Whose truth is it to tell?
So for now, this whole blog thing will be an experiment. If it disrupts my life, I'll bail. Scadattle. Adios. Pack up. Ship out. Move on. Delete.
And in the meantime? Let's just say, for the most part, I'll speak the truth. My truth (Virtually.)