the loneliest people were the ones who always spoke the truth

really the subject line speaks for itself. rather, the subject line, a quote from a band i've been recently obsessed with, kings of convenience, is a good representation of what i feel. see, it's nice to unpack things. i feel as if i have this writing thing in reverse. you would think that the right thing is to start with some ideas and thoughts, and distill that into succinct words. but i think the opposite is true. words, coherent or not, pop up in our heads as a reaction to any of a number of things. what we should do is write them done, and then unpack them. what are the nuances and subtext? what is it that made those words appear?

because i think that's how life is. we are all guided by instinct, and most natural actions are also the most impulsive. there is a lot of feel, very little think. the thinking really comes as a way of justifying the actions. truth is natural, falsehood is not. this, combined with the subject line says something quite unhappy about the world.

i was thinking about how i interact with others, and i realize i'm a really terrible liar. i'm excessively truthful, perhaps because i don't see the point. i hardly ever feel the need to ingratiate myself with others in social situations. i say what i want to say, and if i'm not saying anything, that probably means that what i'm really thinking is so socially unacceptable that i'm instinctively unable to say it. like if i saw you, and didn't say hi, it might mean that i'm thinking: "yeah i fucking recognize you. but what's the fucking point?". or if you asked me a question and i didn't answer, it isn't necessarily because i heard you, but rather "i know you're just asking to be polite, because you don't look like you give a shit."if you're perfectly honest, you always have a response. if you were smart, you would keep quiet more. i'm not that smart.

but that's a long aside. i'm still reacting somewhat to some thoughts from last week. enough fortuitous things happen to allow me to feel that life is trying to teach me an important lesson, not just to grind me down. wednesday night was a horrific reminder of the ironic connections that peppered 2008, but lunch on thursday was a good reminder that nice things happen out of the blue.