People have asked me if I'm on Face Book and I always say no I have a blog. That's my way of inferring that I have way more to contribute than bullets of information about my favorite subject - me. My shoulders squared and I patted myself on the back secretly when my friend commented that Face Book is sort of a fake. "You only put your best foot forward and present the shiny parts of your life. Real relationships reveal your flaws and short comings so the other person connects to the good the bad and the ugly you."
As I've scanned my posts I see that I often serve up just the happy and beautiful parts of our life. And although I'm rarely inclined to jump off the Brooklyn Bridge I have my moments, days and sometimes weeks.
I struggle with my weight. even knowing how it will eventually affect my health I just can't seem to gather up the discipline to shut down the kitchen and stock up on rice cakes. The only time a salad sounds good is right after getting up from Thanksgiving dinner.
I am overly compulsive about neatness. I blame this on my dyslexia and say, my mind is so cluttered that my physical space has to be organized. But I let it get in the way of relationships sometimes and that is a poor trade off. My boys say that if I ever shoot someone I'll plead to the judge -- "But your honor did I mention that I'm dyslexic?"
I interrupt people. How rude is that? I get so excited about the topic that my response cuts off the other person mid stream. (See Dyslexia excuse) I swear if they had those puppy shock collars in my size I'd go for it.
OK -- that's enough truth for one day. I better quit before I call Roman Polanski and tell him to move over. But you get the picture?
Maybe it's better to connect to others by showing my face than by saving face?