Tuesday, February 7, 2006

and the truth shall set you free. or at the very least, totally irritate you. I have friends who are big on confrontation. If there's something you need to know about yourself, they're going to be the first ones to tell you. Even if you react badly to the message at hand, they're going to remain secure in their mission to acquaint you with the truth. I also have friends who are big on sharing. If there's something you need to know about them -- something that will allow you access to the full scope of their character -- well, they're going to share. No doubt about it. Even if you squirm in mild horror. They want you to know. So, bearing this in mind, please understand that I've developed somewhat of an open attitude towards honesty at all costs. I've been broken in. At first, I think it kind of freaked me out. Not that I grew up in a dishonest family, but we were fans of the unspoken understanding, at times. The understated nod of knowing. The comprehensive calm. Now I'm used to it, this brazenness. I even try for it now and then, despite the fact that I'm slightly reserved when more crisis-oriented circumstances arise. But I've learned to open up and express myself. Mostly. The only problem is this: sometimes I forget that not everyone else is accustomed to the... the.... realness. Today, I unleashed a little bit of truth in an email to someone. I covered it in concern and self-deprecation. Sincere concern and some reticence. But I wasn't, from the get-go, totally sure if they wanted the truth. I don't even know if I had the truth. But I was caught up in a reverie of healthy honesty, so I unleashed accordingly. Oops. They responded with a wee bit of vitriol that took me off guard, which then instantly reminded me of the following: "Oh. Crumb. Most people just like to live without such disturbances. Stop trying to pop the bubble." I popped the bubble. They popped me in the nose. I was humbled. Instantly. How much truth is acceptable in any relationship? How do you know what anyone really wants to hear? If people demand that you be sincere with them, are there still limits? I was almost to the point of trusting otherwise. Now I just want to know how other people deal with such things. If you want to say something... if you believe something... if you know something... Just exactly how open should anyone be? And if you get shut down... do you try again? Oy. 10:22:15 PM    well, yes, but...  [] details, details. After much prodding, I'm doing one of these "About Me" pages. It seems funny to do an "About Me" page since, well... the blog is "About Me." But what is the Internet for, if not redundancy? This little synopsis will be saved in my wee sidebar for anyone stumbling across this blog in their webbish journeys. Here's the whole story of Meg, from the top: I was born in 1974, along with People Magazine, Dungeons and Dragons, the Volkswagen Rabbit (my parents had an orangey-red one), and UPC labels. Despite this, I am not a celebrity, a wizard, as compact as I wish to be, or scannable. My actual birthday, April 19th, would later see many newsworthy events, among them the end of the Branch Davidian Standoff, the tragedy of the Oklahoma City Bombings, and the election of Pope Benedict XVI. Just to name a few. Other baby girls born that year? Kate Moss, Posh Spice, Alanis Morrissette, Jenna Jameson, Natasha Henstridge, and Andrea Corr. Good heavens. The boys? Steve Nash, Derek Jeter, Jose Vidro, Tim Henman, and Leonardo DiCaprio. I don't think I have anything in common with any of those people. I've certainly never dated Gisele Bundchen. I've only ever lived in Canada, in three provinces and one territory. I've not yet left North America, which is a shame -- and a pretty amazing point of anticipation. I have two parents, still happily married, and one older brother. I live in Vancouver, BC, Canada, and have two lovely roommates, one of which is getting married in June. We have an apartment with a hallway so long you can bowl with a head of lettuce and five rolls of paper towel. I have a BA in English and Political Science, partly because I meant to go to law school, but mostly because both subjects allow me to be incredibly vague and meandering. Much like this blog. I've worked as a nanny, a barista, a camp counsellor, a program director, an election official, and a freelance writer. Now I'm ensconced as a writer for an internet company. I've never: been on a reality show; thrown a firecracker at anyone; been arrested; owned my own dog; thrown a fit at anyone in customer service; caused a car accident; written a book; or killed a man. I have: jumped off a cliff; been suspended from a bible school; eaten a spider; thrown a javelin into the sidelines of a track meet by accident; and consumed 31 shots of espresso in one day. I have taught: windsurfing; snorkeling; basic grammar; kindergarten art; and how to administer epinephrine to an orange. I am: single; klutzy; emphatic; email-addicted; a hand-talker; prone to wheezing laughter; and vehemently opposed to a lack of cowbell. I know how to: make a really good pie; do basic HTML; grill the tastiest lemon chicken known to man; swear in eight languages; convince almost any baby to stop crying; break multiple bones (of my own) in a single mishap; and do convincing accents, if need be. I refuse to: call any man "Daddy" except my father; cheer for the Broncos or the Cowboys; eat anything banana-flavoured that isn't a banana; wear pants with more than three zippers; run naked through the streets of Bountiful, Utah; or put on shoes unless I have to. I might try to: write a novel; go kiteboarding; live in Prague, study for my Masters in Journalism; get hitched to a decent human being; and stop doing that weird thing with my toes. I'm better at laughing than crying. Sometimes better at talking than listening. Logical, abstract, measured, and messy, all at once. The worth of shock value sometimes eludes me. But I'm not as easily shocked as I used to be. Which seems like kind of a shame, at times. I have no children -- that I know of.... I had my first blog for two months in 2004, my second for a month later on in 2004, and my third for two months in early 2005. Computer crashes ended two out of the three efforts. This blog was born March 2005. It nearly ended with a computer crash in September 2005, but now Blogcabin runs happily on an iBook. And we're never going back. There are other Blogcabins on the web, the most disturbing of which belongs to the Gay Republicans of California -- a profoundly oxymoronic association somewhere along the lines of the Fundamentalist Strippers of Minnesota. This is not a political blog. I am politically left-of-centre, but conservative in ways you might not expect. I don't discuss politics with just anyone, and I never assume things about people because of their political leanings. Unless they wear white hoods. And then we have a problem. Nothing makes me more angry than harm done to children. Or racism. Or willful ignorance. Or hate in the name of religion -- any religion. Or the lack thereof. I love having a Salon Blog, and of this day, am the 69th most read Salon Blog since 2002. Yes, I'm smirking. Why else do you think I mentioned it? ;-) When I get a bee in my proverbial bonnet, I'll write about it for weeks. And then I'll suddenly just let it go. Because no one should hang on to a bee longer than they have to. I probably like hockey more than you do. If I could be more of anything, I would be more calm, more wise, and more reticent to react. If I could be less of anything, I would be less sharp-tongued, less easily distracted, and less prone to sarcasm. I'd love to write better, sing more, and love unconditionally. I'll probably sleep less, write more, and love unconditionally. This blog isn't about anything; it just is. I suppose if I had to describe it somehow, I would call it a love letter to being alive. Oh, crap. That sounds pretentious. Feel free to hang out. That's me -- and Blogcabin -- in a nutshell. But I'm also claustrophobic, so can someone let me out? 12:16:27 AM    well, yes, but...  []

© Copyright 2006 Meg Fowler. Last update: 3/4/06; 2:32:18 PM.