Wednesday, June 3, 2009

...three chords and the truth

I wouldn’t necessarily say I have a fiery redhead temper.

I wouldn’t necessarily claim to be a redhead.

Of course I boil at social injustice, cruelty to animals, a jerk boss and idiot drivers. But I’m talking spitting out, take-that-you-little-bastard anger. I’ve never hit another person (save a bullying brother or two in childhood) and rarely yell and scream (just the good kind, that which evokes God's name). I don’t express anger that way. But when it comes, in those momentary flashes it’s hurtful and mean. Downright chastising.

The worst of my temper flares when lied too. I choose to believe what is told me, when asked, until proven otherwise. I assume words and motives to be genuine.

The concept is utopian at best, na├»ve at worst. I’m actually shocked to uncover a lie or half-truth, similar to how I’m truly stunned each time I don’t win the Powerball. Years ago, a tarot card reader told me someone close to me, a man, would deceive me. I peeshawed and “oh pleased” the notion, deceit an impossibility from someone I’d given trust to in both hands. Looking back, I don’t think he deceived me; he just fell in love with someone else.

Lying angers me because it assumes one to be stupid, unaware. I imagine what parents go through, especially the cool hip ones, since kids pulling wool is a rite of passage. Watched (and was on the receiving end) of some from my nieces and nephew and it drove me batty; also provided a good chuckle given their modus operandi paled to our teenage rebel rousing. We had Boone's Farm Strawberry Hill, after all.

For many years too many, I didn’t believe myself empirically beautiful or was allowed the protection of unconditional love, but I could hold tight to smarts. So when something is revealed as disingenuous or false, I fall back down the rabbit hole to marginalized or inconsequential. And I get angry, then red faced by embarrassment. Like many too many, mine’s a past chock full of anger, and I don’t like my voice like that.

I ask for the truth and don't tempt or fish for something that's not. I never, ever ask the question “Do I look fat in this?” and only answer “Does size matter?” with the utmost of care.

Because I cannot tell a lie.


Lisa said...

I'm with you--insults to my intelligence are the ones that really get me going. My bro-in-law used to always imply that I was dumb (in a way that he thought was fun and joking), and one day I just exploded and said, "YOU KNOW, I AM NOT DUMB!! I AM ACTUALLY QUITE SMART!!!!" Luckily he took the "hint," and we've gotten along a lot better since.

Jodie Kash said...

Oh my, Lisa. From a somewhat unlikely friendship, you get me! All the "Reeder" ladies do. Lucky girl I am ;)

‘Course the man who inspired the post reminded me last night my Achilles heel of lies = stupid is in my head, not from his…well, uh…kinda, but, jus sayin’ and now you know so don't again please...

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