It's St Patricks Day, or as I prefer to think of it, another one of those avoid the pub at all costs days (Hogmanay being the worst of all). I'm not a fan of enforced jollity. I like to decide for myself if I'm in a mood for a party (usually not - I'm the scowling misanthrope in the corner). I don't want to spend a night surrounded by drunk eejits insisting that I enter into the "spirit" of it all, what with it being a "special night" and all. Especially when said eejits are only venturing out because of the random date on the calendar anyway.
I think the basic problem is that I never quite learned how to fake it. I can't look happy if I'm really feeling miserable, I struggle to feign interest in other people's dull small talk, and if I don't like someone, they tend to know about it pretty sharpish. Not that I'm rude (well, not always anyway) - I can do polite, having been brought up to have manners and all, it's just that honesty comes too easily for me. That may sound a little strange, but in ordinary human interaction, people tend to be looking more for self-validation than an honest assessment of a given situation. No, that outfit doesn't suit you, you did deserve that reprimand at work, and yes, you should cut back on the booze.
I was so OTT about the honesty thing as a child that I wouldn't even cheat when playing board games - if I could see an answer on the back of a card, I'd own up and ask for a new question. Lying on a regular basis seems like an awful lot of work to me. Not only do you have to remember both truth and fiction, you also need to remember exactly who knows what, and stick to the appropriate version for your audience. It's far easier just to stick to the facts, and damn the consequences. Except with your parents of course, even I'm not that stupid...
1 comment:
Hmm, a book labelled "lies" is just asking for someone to find it and start snooping. She should have given it a dull name, like "Trainspotting Logs" or something.
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