No one likes getting caught with their pants down. Well. No one I know, anyway.
No one likes being wakened suddenly out of a sound sleep – certainly not by a falling tree, a screaming child, a blaring alarm clock when you thought you could sleep in.
No one likes unpleasant surprises, the ones that leave you shocked or stunned. A little shock and awe? Occasionally, that’s fine – if it’s shock and awe of a splendid sort.
Some people hate surprises of any type – pranks, tricks, the Pandora’s Boxes of the world – at least, if it impacts them. But a surprise involving someone else?
That may be a whole other story.
Even for those of us who may avoid the surprise sprung without any warning, we may nonetheless thrive on the adrenaline rush of a last minute (surprise) project, or the pleasure of an unexpected gift. We like our mystery mixed with controllable certainties. Realistically, most of us deal with a combination of both.
Tell All? Tell Some
I’m not of the “tell all” persuasion. Never have been.
Tell some – as suits my agenda? That’s a different matter, and as a writer, a woman, or a parent – I am aware that there are times for careful wording, others for the power of raw emotion, and some, when it’s best not to talk at all.
When it comes to surprises, I like the good kind, naturally. I love being surprised by flowers (what woman doesn’t?) and I wouldn’t say no to a surprise pair of hot heels. (No surprise there, right?)
In fact, I’ve always lived between many worlds – culturally, personally, and professionally. Integrating them all? It’s never been a simple task, though to me, the contradictions of various lives do not pose conflicts; if anything, wearing many hats can be supremely satisfying.
Who Am I? Who Are You?
Clearly, I reveal bits and pieces of my life in my writing, though I tweak to suit my intention, and I’ve never pretended otherwise.
I write of my life as a woman, as a mother, as a survivor of a disagreeable divorce and its aftermath. I pose questions, as part of my own purposeful self-examination, and as a means to actively participate in a variety of communities.
I once described an interaction with a man, who asked me “Who are you – really?” – and I found the question odd. Perhaps he was used to women who pour out a twenty year history of marriage and men over two cocktails and an appetizer.
Pas moi.
This was my response, more or less:
I’m a mother. I’m a writer. I’m a face in the crowd you would never notice, though you might nod politely when passing, and then go on with your busy day. I am struggling to finish the job of parenting. Who are you?
As I consider them now, those words are part mask and equally, raw honesty. They accurately depict who I am, and acknowledge – however lightly – the tough road that many of us travel as single parents.
Trust, and Necessity
My professional life – as a consultant and a writer – sometimes requires that I be circumspect. At other times, more transparency is the better option.
Surprise, surprise – my worlds are blending.
So stick around. I may become a little less mysterious soon (and no less enamored of French men or designer chaussures), though frankly, I don’t consider myself mysterious whatsoever. Rather, I’m private about those issues I care to keep to myself, private with regards to the confidences of others, private in ways that suit my personality – while speaking my mind on topics I believe are important, or at least – entertaining.
- Do you like surprises?
- Do you enjoy pranks?
- Do people sometimes perceive you as mysterious – when that’s the last way you view yourself?
- Do you play many roles in life – with the appropriate public face for each?
I am totally transparent and as my Mom used to say, “what is on your mind is out your mouth.” It has worked for me. And I love surprises but have not had many in my life. Still waiting.
Madge, you make me smile!
I love a surprise. If it is an event – with a little advance notice (the notice is the surprise). Of the flower or jewelry variety – anytime is perfect:)
Hate pranks. I pulled one once. I still feel guilty. Please don’t prank me.
There is nothing mysterious about me. You sort of see what you get. However, I am often not in touch with my own feelings, so I don’t think I spill everything. I find it odd when someone shares their life history with me in the first five minutes after a first meeting.
I wish I spoke French!
There are appropriate faces that are totally dependent upon the people and the circumstances.
I’m with you on the pranks, Robin! Though I must say, having boys around the house… the pranks were plentiful enough.
I’ve never figured out why some people adore pranking. (Do you have a clue?)
I hate pranks and I truthfully don’t much like surprises either. They take my breath away. I become disoriented and so flustered that I don’t enjoy the experience the way I think I should and they therefore leave me feeling uneasy, guilty, or assessing whether or not I am a fraud. I’m more worried about the surprise-er getting what he/she wants out of the experience, than myself. After all, so often that’s what surprising and “pranking”are all about. The one delivering is the one getting (or trying to get) all of the jollies. That’s why I find pranks so annoying. The person doing the prank is seeking pleasure at the expense of the one being “pranked”. It’s a rather sadistic endeavor. I too played one prank (on April Fool’s Day) and have felt guilty about it ever since.
As for transparency? I wear my feelings on my face like makeup. It’s an affliction. Even when I think I’m wearing a mask, I’m as transparent as hell, though I don’t spill, I accidentally ooze. Except when I’m writing and then you’re likely to get way more than you bargained for!
You “accidentally ooze.” Great way to put it, Dorothy.
I am who I am and that is different with each person and situation, but consistent throughout.
That means who I am at the office is a bit different than who I am with friends. And who I am with friends is a bit different than who I am with my children.
Having kids I’ve grown to appreciate a prank more than I used to, and I’m even a little less likely to jump out of my skin if someone comes in the kitchen when I didn’t notice. As for mystery, I’m willing to be an open book but I can’t seem to help but be confusingly written. Either way, I look forward to whatever you choose to share, and I’m happy to respect what you elect to keep private (not to mention that there are things for blogs, things for emails, things for chats and other things that defy words no matter how much we’d love to squeeze the best and most elusive spirits into the realm of words).