There are certain truths we don't want anyone to get a hold of.
I'm a fairly honest person. Most people know my aspirations, my fears, and my voice when I enter the room. I don't keep a lot of things hidden (I'm the crazy type who likes to make secrets and them immediately share them, which is why it was so hard not to tell Lise that I was flying her fiance up to school to surprise her. But every other person of my acquaintance was aware of the fact!), so when I do, it's a big deal.
I just finished watching an episode of Chuck where the main characters get dosed with a truth serum on accident. As they race off to find the bad guy who has the antidote, they begin to share mild secrets like "Wow, you're pretty," and "Casey, your jaw looks like it was chiseled by Michelangelo." At the end of the episode, Chuck tries to take advantage of the situation and asks Sarah if there could ever be anything between them.
This got me thinking about the questions I would ask, if given the chance. Another thought would be "Who would I ask?" This would be in a hypothetical situation where my entire acquaintance got dosed along with me. I began to go down the list of people I would question: my family members, my professors, my friends--but what would I ask them? I suppose I could ask my parents who was their favorite child? But I already know that answer: it would be something along the lines of "We don't have favorites. But we do have a child who gives us the least trouble, a child who talks back the least, a child who doesn't annoy us as much as the others," etc. And my teachers? My questions for them would be completely selfish. I would want to know if they saw potential in me, if there was at all a chance in their minds that I was destined for greatness. And if I had to ask my friends a question, it would probably be "Am I annoying?"
The scariest notion, however, was the sludgy, dark region of my mind where my answers would surface. I thought, "Are the answers buried so deep that they would surprise me when voiced aloud? Or would they only be in the grouping of truth that I was aware of?"
For example, what if somebody asked me what my deepest, darkest secret was? Would I answer with what I perceive to be my deepest, darkest secret? Or would my answer shock not only my questioner, but myself as well?
(Not that I'm going to tell any of YOU what I think my deepest, darkest secret is.)
It's a fascinating concept, but one that I'm glad resides in the iffy vortex of sci-fi and reality-that-will-never-affect-me (THANK GOODNESS).
Let me know the questions you would ask, if given the chance, on my Facebook wall where this will be posted in addition to the blog.
TGWLAE -- Oh! And Happy Groundhog Day! :)
Picture: mybluepeacock.blogspot.com
I'm a fairly honest person. Most people know my aspirations, my fears, and my voice when I enter the room. I don't keep a lot of things hidden (I'm the crazy type who likes to make secrets and them immediately share them, which is why it was so hard not to tell Lise that I was flying her fiance up to school to surprise her. But every other person of my acquaintance was aware of the fact!), so when I do, it's a big deal.
I just finished watching an episode of Chuck where the main characters get dosed with a truth serum on accident. As they race off to find the bad guy who has the antidote, they begin to share mild secrets like "Wow, you're pretty," and "Casey, your jaw looks like it was chiseled by Michelangelo." At the end of the episode, Chuck tries to take advantage of the situation and asks Sarah if there could ever be anything between them.
This got me thinking about the questions I would ask, if given the chance. Another thought would be "Who would I ask?" This would be in a hypothetical situation where my entire acquaintance got dosed along with me. I began to go down the list of people I would question: my family members, my professors, my friends--but what would I ask them? I suppose I could ask my parents who was their favorite child? But I already know that answer: it would be something along the lines of "We don't have favorites. But we do have a child who gives us the least trouble, a child who talks back the least, a child who doesn't annoy us as much as the others," etc. And my teachers? My questions for them would be completely selfish. I would want to know if they saw potential in me, if there was at all a chance in their minds that I was destined for greatness. And if I had to ask my friends a question, it would probably be "Am I annoying?"
The scariest notion, however, was the sludgy, dark region of my mind where my answers would surface. I thought, "Are the answers buried so deep that they would surprise me when voiced aloud? Or would they only be in the grouping of truth that I was aware of?"
For example, what if somebody asked me what my deepest, darkest secret was? Would I answer with what I perceive to be my deepest, darkest secret? Or would my answer shock not only my questioner, but myself as well?
(Not that I'm going to tell any of YOU what I think my deepest, darkest secret is.)
It's a fascinating concept, but one that I'm glad resides in the iffy vortex of sci-fi and reality-that-will-never-affect-me (THANK GOODNESS).
Let me know the questions you would ask, if given the chance, on my Facebook wall where this will be posted in addition to the blog.
TGWLAE -- Oh! And Happy Groundhog Day! :)
Picture: mybluepeacock.blogspot.com