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Jul. 14th, 2001 05:07 amWent out tonight with some friends, including Sharon, an old friend from Tech who got married and moved to Cali a few years ago. She's moving to Florida and stopped by Atlanta for the weekend. We hit Innovox for coffee, only to discover that it was apparently Lesbian Homeless Benefit Karaoke night. As more people gathered we headed for Highlander. After a few hours of beer, conversation and tots we headed off to Cyberia. I wasn't much in a goth club mood, so I left when opportunity presented itself.
That's when things got interesting. We wandered off in search of late night food. We were a unique trio: three good friends who had separate groups of friends in addition to our mutual ones. We were an intersection of three distinct groups of people. We started by filling in the gaps between groups. Persons A and B would explain to person C how they knew person X. Then B and C would explain someone else.
The conversation got more interesting. We progressed from talking about people some of us knew to talking about people we all knew. The stories got more personal until at some point we crossed the line to those stories. The ones you only hear rumors about, or heard third hand. The scandals. The ones that people hope never get told.
They always get told. It may take a while, but over coffee or beer late at night they come out. Ben Franklin said it best: "Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."
"She did what? With who?"
"He cheated on her with..."
"I knew that"
"and... and... and... and... and... and..."
and so on...
It was interesting at first. Hearing stories of people you know, doing things you wouldn't imagine them doing. Or fantasized, or feared or hoped or guessed they did. But then I began to wonder. I don't consider our circle of friends too wild. We're no angels, but we lack serial killers, circus freaks, secret agents or porn stars. Now I wonder, if our group has that many stories, what about everyone else?
What is it that makes some people fear the truth of what they do while others will admit it openly? When in our past did America become a country where shame was the norm? How many people out there have things in their past they dread ever coming to light? Which ones revel in the looks on other peoples faces when they tell them? I think some don't even know why they do some of the things they do. In the moment, something seems perfectly fine, yet a week later they pray that no one ever knows what happened.
I have reached a point where I rarely do the things I regret. Now I'm working to eliminate the shame and guilt from the things I have done. Once I can admit point blank to my flaws, or stop seeing them as that, I will be closer to freedom.
Either that, or everyone will wish I would just shut the fuck up.
That's when things got interesting. We wandered off in search of late night food. We were a unique trio: three good friends who had separate groups of friends in addition to our mutual ones. We were an intersection of three distinct groups of people. We started by filling in the gaps between groups. Persons A and B would explain to person C how they knew person X. Then B and C would explain someone else.
The conversation got more interesting. We progressed from talking about people some of us knew to talking about people we all knew. The stories got more personal until at some point we crossed the line to those stories. The ones you only hear rumors about, or heard third hand. The scandals. The ones that people hope never get told.
They always get told. It may take a while, but over coffee or beer late at night they come out. Ben Franklin said it best: "Three may keep a secret, if two of them are dead."
"She did what? With who?"
"He cheated on her with..."
"I knew that"
"and... and... and... and... and... and..."
and so on...
It was interesting at first. Hearing stories of people you know, doing things you wouldn't imagine them doing. Or fantasized, or feared or hoped or guessed they did. But then I began to wonder. I don't consider our circle of friends too wild. We're no angels, but we lack serial killers, circus freaks, secret agents or porn stars. Now I wonder, if our group has that many stories, what about everyone else?
What is it that makes some people fear the truth of what they do while others will admit it openly? When in our past did America become a country where shame was the norm? How many people out there have things in their past they dread ever coming to light? Which ones revel in the looks on other peoples faces when they tell them? I think some don't even know why they do some of the things they do. In the moment, something seems perfectly fine, yet a week later they pray that no one ever knows what happened.
I have reached a point where I rarely do the things I regret. Now I'm working to eliminate the shame and guilt from the things I have done. Once I can admit point blank to my flaws, or stop seeing them as that, I will be closer to freedom.
Either that, or everyone will wish I would just shut the fuck up.
