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Truth. What is it? Who determines what is true and what is not? Is there a truth police officer?
These questions may seem a little silly, but I have been thinking about truth a lot lately. In, fact, it follows me everywhere I go--even in the bathroom.
Setting up my new apartment, I decided to put a small book called "The Art of Civilized Conversation" in our bathroom (which my roommate objects to being there, but will not let me now remove the book from the bathroom and place it in the kitchen or book shelf because she said that is "disgusting"). The point of the story is, every time I sit down and open up this book to read anything in it I get to the section entitled "Always tell the truth."
In a way, I think the big man (or woman) up there is trying to tell me something. Perhaps I lie too much?
Now, I know I, as a reporter, should not be posting up here that I, an infallible being, lie, but I do. But I don't lie to you, the public, in my stories. I lie to my mother about what food I eat so that she thinks I'm eating healthy. I lie to my friends when they want me to go out, and I say I have something else to do. I lie to my dog when I pretend I'm taking her on a magical journey, when really I am going to gate her up in the kitchen so I can eat a meal in peace.
I used to lie to my father about wearing a winter jacket, because he would threaten to "ground" me if I didn't (I wore it out the door, then threw it in the bushes at the end of my driveway when I went out). But I still do lie to the dentist when he asks if I floss regularly.
The point of the story is, I, like many of you, tell little white lies on a daily basis. They don't hurt anybody. In fact, sometimes they help people. Like when I lied to someone I bought flowers for once, and said they were from someone else who forgot to.
But in my stories, there is no lying. There is no saying I have a jacket on when I really don't, no saying I love the t-shirt my grandma gave me when I'd rather eat dirt than wear it. What you see is what you get, and even though I can't lie in this one aspect of my life, it doesn't bother me. Because at the end of the day, no matter how many sweet little lies (tell me liesssss tell me sweet little liesssss...sorry) I tell, I know that at least here, I am an honest person.
And sorry Dad, about the jacket.
