Thursday, September 22, 2005

Going Through the Change

I don't remember being a dishonest child. But somewhere around 11 years old I can remember the mendacity train rolling into town. By the time high school rolled around I had dengenerated into a big liar. See that's a lie. I never was big. But I used to tell people in my freshman year gym class that at one point in my life I was 100 pounds over weight. In reality I wouldn't breach the hundred pound mark until college, never mind ever posessing 100 pounds of extra fat. Nonetheless I got a couple of people to buy it. Then one day in Spanish III my junior year someone asked what I did over the weekend. I responded nonchantly, "Nothing much. Just went down to a party in the City (that's New York in Jersey lingo) Friday night. The party didn't end until Sunday afternoon. Met a couple of dudes, I think I'm hanging with one this weekend. I can't remember much else, I drank a sooo much zima and sprit." I'd like to just to make clear this was a lie and never in my entire life have I EVER imbibed Zima.

Immediately after uttering this ridiculous story I realized I was lying to impress people for whom I had no respect. I decided I would stop lying from there on in. The lies didn't stop cold turkey, though. Lieing for seven years everytime I felt socially insecure was a hard habit to break. But with vigilance I reprogrammed myself for truth telling, and in College I was like a reincarnation of George Washington, without the wooden teeth or wig of course. I admitted to my peers, "No, I have never read a Dr. Who novel. I actually I don't masturbate. " (this latter one no one believed, but it was true at the time.) So now I was a truth teller as long as I was sober. When I was drunk forget about it. Example, the weekend of my college graduation I attended a party where I found myself inebriated. I was talking with this girl who I knew through mutual friends, she thought herself cool and bohemian and if she thought that than so did I because I can be a chump. She asked me where I was staying that night. I responded, "I don't know, man. You can't plan things like that. Where ever I guess. Maybe I'll squat in this building I know in Central Square." The reality: I was staying in a hotel room with my parents. They were in Boston to witness the graduation ceremony.

In the seven years since then I don't lie drunk or sober, except to cops and authority figures--but that doesn't count they can put you in and jail. But now I feel the pendulum has swung too far in the honest direction. I completely lack phoniness.. If I'm depressed everyone knows. If I think your scum I don't really hide the fact. I don't care if I am sleeping with you. People ask me sexual questions and I just answer them. Yeah my fantasy is pretty tame, just sex up against a wall or in a closet at a party. A normal person would tell you it's none of your business. Who knew that was a response?! Worse than that I point out social awkwardness as it is happening. "Maybe I would have said something more sauve but you intimidate me."

This way of living has not served me well at all and his really quite freakish. Other people aren't honest because honest is stupid. Not to mention a detriment to creativity. Lieing by its very nature forces us to invent, honesty does not. Honesty is for the mentally challenged who struggle just to recall what actually happened or find a word to describe a feeling. An intelligent person can do this in their sleep.

Well, that's all changing.

I'm going back to lieing. Yippee! I think I'm fabulous and you are all fabulous. Everyone one of you exceptionally talented I really enjoyed that thing you did the other day. Totally loved it. Which part? The whole thing, darling.
Oh Cheryl and I are such good friends. Her middle name? I actually don't know, I just met her yesterday. But tight we are tight.

You hate the rich. Yeah, I hear you sister, my parents are poor. My dad's a dishwasher and my mom does embroidering. She gets paid by the piece.
Oh you judge poverty, sir. Well, did I tell you about my trust fund? The poor let them eat cake that's what I say, in fact I coined that phrase. First person to suggest that. Though I'd like some cake too. We shouldn't give all the cake to the poor.

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