Three-Headed Dog (or: The Mouth of Hell)

Last February, Johnny made me a mix CD after reading my journal, (which I used to update with some regularity,) for about seven months. Written on the top of the disk are the words: "Honestly, as of Feb. 7th (today) I don't feel any closer to knowing you than when I asked you to write me the e-mail that never came. So really, this whole CD was a stab in the dark, on only one leg, and one hand tied behind my back. When I am usually crippled so, I tend to deal only flesh wounds, but with luck, I may strike your heart (or spleen). -J"

Today, Jac Alder, who runs Theatre Three, stopped by the sound booth to talk to Patrick midshow. "I interviewed your wife yesterday," he said. "She's one of two types of people: either she's someone who can do almost anything, or she's someone who can think about almost anything. We spoke for two hours, and I can't for the life of me tell which."

"She's very Cerebral," he added. "And I mean that in the very best sense."

Something that's been true all my life is that I'm a good liar. Unimpeachable. It's why I tend to win at board games. It's also why I had to give up sarcasm for several years - nobody could tell I was using it.

My immediate family considers lying a cardinal virtue, although we usually call it "diplomacy." On a basic level, this involves a lot of tact and a certain percentage of "protecting you from yourself" - all of which seems to be minor and harmless, or even beneficial. Sometimes it gets out of hand, like when I'm simply not warned about a bad decision I'm making because telling would be intrusive. Alternatively, I rarely mention what goes on in my life because truth, regarded as an offer for debate, invites criticism leveled with dispassionate medical cruelty. End result: we spend most of our time talking about ideas instead of actions or emotions since there's no guarantee that the latter are being communicated with any kind of accuracy.

It doesn't help that I moved a lot as a kid. It's not that I needed to lie to find new friends - I've never really had a problem with that. Honestly, I'm quite likeable most of the time, and I usually have the best toys. The thing is, nobody really wants to hear that the new kid is the best at everything, especially if said new kid is strange, small, and uses words only the teachers understand. This includes the teachers, who usually have no idea how to challenge such a kid without being somehow unfair. Eventually, I just stopped participating outside of a narrow range of subjects it was deemed okay to be the best at, and those I stopped practicing so as not to be too good.

See how hateful and arrogant that last paragraph sounds? Superior and megalomanical? It's true, and it's stuff I can document, but it sounds delusional even to me. "I'm good at just about everything, even more so than you think I am because I deliberately dumb myself down to make you feel better." What a terrible thing to say, and how fantastical. It's why I lose jobs and honors to people less qualified than I - if an interviewer can't find some weakness, it probably means the candidate is lying.

I'm very good at lying.

What I'm not good at is telling the truth. Coming from me, it just isn't that believable. The irony is that I haven't lied in almost six years, except to myself. Valancy doesn't believe in lying, and so I don't. Since she's the only person who has ever completely trusted me, I figure I owe her something; without her I would forever be alone. I don't say anything I don't believe, including the lord's prayer and the pledge of allegiance.

I started this journal. I started a public journal to talk about what I thought and felt. No secrets. No surface "this is what I did today." Just me, being as honest as possible in the clearest words I can find.

Any more, I don't really care whether people like me.

I just wish they'd believe me.