At a young age we’re taught that lying is a socially unacceptable act. In fact, in some circles it’s considered unforgivable. My mother must have done an especially good job at ingraining this rule in my mind, as I am pretty much incapable of telling a successful lie. Even if I attempt to fabricate a lie out of thin air my physiological response (intense blushing and perspiration) gives me away immediately. Or just as I gain the conviction to tell the lie, I change my mind on a dime and begin to spew the unadulterated truth, usually TMI. Yes, I occasionally partake in a white lie or two, in order to a) protect someone’s feelings b) save face, or c) avoid plans that I know I’m not going to keep – I’m only human after all. There is one type of lie, however, that I’ve become an absolute master of – lying to myself – something I imagine we’re all guilty of. Continue reading
the rêve head 