The Lying Game
Feb. 28th, 2012 07:08 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
windemereThis post is brought to you by a warning label: Don't read me!
Today I realised what a great liar I am. In theory, as well as practice, I knew this already, but only for certain things. I know, for instance, that I lie so naturally that I've usually told a lie to someone before it even occurs to me to tell the truth. It's not something I'm proud of, I hope you realise, but it is how I am. It's a product of my family, my upbringing, and an overwhelming need to appear normal and accepted by other people. And also a product of the fact that the truth usually sends people running the other way. It's a very fine line most times, but the people who inevitably tell you they never lie are, of course, lying through their teeth when they say it. No one is perfect. I tend to lie to make other people think I am, though; again, for the sake of being accepted.
As I said, it's an acknowledged character flaw. I get it.
Today was not a 'happy thesis day'. I spent the morning pissed off at myself for not doing any work yesterday and doubly annoyed that I couldn't seem to concentrate enough to work today, either. Despite the fact my flatmate didn't wake me up last night for the first time in a week, I seemed even more annoyed with her today then since she moved in, for no apparent reason. I got up on the wrong side of the bed [there's only one side], I know this. However, I had a meeting this morning where I had to put on a smile and realistically gush about the university, the phd and the museum studies department. And I did it all without stopping for even an instant to realise that, this morning, I didn't feel like gushing about any of those things, except how miserable I actually felt when I woke up. But I didn't. I lied like it was second nature.
And it is. Two years of working in a retail store where all I wanted to do was take a crystal vase and kill the customer and yet I was told time and again, by customers and staff, that I was the most pleasant individual possible; that I was always polite and well spoken and however did I find such a high level of patience? Two years, and those people didn't know me AT ALL.
Which is sort of my point. I guess that was the test that I didn't realise I'd taken (or passed) which was brought home to me this morning. I'm a great liar. My problem is, I'm even better at lying to myself.
Which is not even a character flaw. It's a disaster. I guess everyone has to be good at something.
Yes, I'm still on the wrong side of the bed and it's 7pm. If this bloody paper wasn't 4000 words longer than I wanted it to be, I'd be in a much better mood. But it's Tuesday and it's still February, so my mood still wouldn't be that good.
Grateful for: Graze (I think I'm repeating), beans on toast and slate tiles. And I don't have to explain myself.
Today I realised what a great liar I am. In theory, as well as practice, I knew this already, but only for certain things. I know, for instance, that I lie so naturally that I've usually told a lie to someone before it even occurs to me to tell the truth. It's not something I'm proud of, I hope you realise, but it is how I am. It's a product of my family, my upbringing, and an overwhelming need to appear normal and accepted by other people. And also a product of the fact that the truth usually sends people running the other way. It's a very fine line most times, but the people who inevitably tell you they never lie are, of course, lying through their teeth when they say it. No one is perfect. I tend to lie to make other people think I am, though; again, for the sake of being accepted.
As I said, it's an acknowledged character flaw. I get it.
Today was not a 'happy thesis day'. I spent the morning pissed off at myself for not doing any work yesterday and doubly annoyed that I couldn't seem to concentrate enough to work today, either. Despite the fact my flatmate didn't wake me up last night for the first time in a week, I seemed even more annoyed with her today then since she moved in, for no apparent reason. I got up on the wrong side of the bed [there's only one side], I know this. However, I had a meeting this morning where I had to put on a smile and realistically gush about the university, the phd and the museum studies department. And I did it all without stopping for even an instant to realise that, this morning, I didn't feel like gushing about any of those things, except how miserable I actually felt when I woke up. But I didn't. I lied like it was second nature.
And it is. Two years of working in a retail store where all I wanted to do was take a crystal vase and kill the customer and yet I was told time and again, by customers and staff, that I was the most pleasant individual possible; that I was always polite and well spoken and however did I find such a high level of patience? Two years, and those people didn't know me AT ALL.
Which is sort of my point. I guess that was the test that I didn't realise I'd taken (or passed) which was brought home to me this morning. I'm a great liar. My problem is, I'm even better at lying to myself.
Which is not even a character flaw. It's a disaster. I guess everyone has to be good at something.
Yes, I'm still on the wrong side of the bed and it's 7pm. If this bloody paper wasn't 4000 words longer than I wanted it to be, I'd be in a much better mood. But it's Tuesday and it's still February, so my mood still wouldn't be that good.
Grateful for: Graze (I think I'm repeating), beans on toast and slate tiles. And I don't have to explain myself.
