Welcome to Day 6 of Self-Deprecation week. This week, I’m writing all about how much I suck. No, no. Not quite like that. Self-Dep Week is all about acknowledging the flaws that make me (and all of us) the people we are: three dimensional, fucked up, and full of shortcomings. The way I see it, the better you know your flaws (and the more open you are about them) the better those around you are able to navigate those foibles. Doesn’t necessarily make the flaws go away, but at least acknowledging them puts it all on the table: I’m a fuck up. So are you. Let’s go get a beer.

Today’s Suckage: Liar
I am an excellent liar. I think it’s par for the course with being a blabbermouth: I can speak on my feet, and do so often.

I’ve got a lie for every occasion. I’ve lied to make myself look better. I’ve lied to make myself look worse (when telling a story where you are the butt of the joke, you’ve got to do it a little over the top, right?). I’ve lied to cover my ass. I’ve lied for career purposes. (After all, what is copywriting if not written lies?) I’ve lied to friends and family. I have not ever lied to Andreas for long — I tried lying to him once, and lasted all of three hours before crumbling into a pile of sobbing confessional filth.

I’ve lied by omission. I’ve lied by diversion. I’ve lied boldly and meekly. I don’t think I’ve ever told a lie on this webpage, but I’ve definitely not shared material that might be incriminating. There are lies I told 10 years ago that I still (STILL!) have to maintain.

I try not to lie too much when I’m telling stories — either that, or make it eminently clear that it’s a lie by making it such an enormous one that the reader/listener is clued in to the exaggeration. I find that it demeans a story’s integrity by lying too little or too much. For example, when sharing a story about an awkward pause in conversation, it really doesn’t mean anything to say, “Then no one said anything for, like, a minute.”

Everyone knows that it wasn’t a minute. So how long was it really? I usually try to be honest in those situations. “Then no one said anything for what was realistically about 15 seconds — but you know how long a silent 15 seconds can seem!” But for effect (affect? Eh, fuck it), sometimes it can be nice to say, “Then no one said anything for days. The sun set, and we sat silently. Dawn crept in, and still: not a word. A small ISP was founded, blossomed, and went bankrupt, and still no words were spoken.” I don’t really count that as a lie — it’s storytelling. But let’s just say that sometimes storytelling creeps into real life.

Ok, maybe MORE than sometimes.

Tomorrow’s Suckage: Undisciplined