Veracity, candor, and uprightness

According to my lovely friend and regular blog reader Becky, I am an honest person. To commemorate my honesty award, I am supposed to tell ten secrets. (How is that part of it an award? Shouldn't anyone who reads this be writing to tell me their secrets to reward the ones I've already told? I mean, I've certainly gone into topics through the writing of this blog that would make some people's hair curl.)

I've given a fair amount of thought to the topic of honesty. I've considered different ways of being honest, different levels of honestly, various motivations for honesty. Recent experiences with honesty have been, well, HEART-WRENCHING. I have lots of questions about honesty, such as:

Is it advisable, desirable, or even possible to be honest in every situation?

Can anyone else handle my complete honesty and, for that matter, can I handle theirs?

How much honesty is too much? That is, when does it become a detriment?

A friend once told me he really admired my honesty and ability to be humble; he said he thought it was admirable that I didn't mind looking bad in front of others. I wasn't quite sure how to take that compliment.

Anyway, all my rambling about the topic aside, here's some more honesty. Enjoy.

1. My Room 101 fear is being buried alive.

2. I've always had one foot out the door, and I'm not sure how to change that.

3. I seem to feel everything REALLY INTENSELY or not at all. It's exhausting--I know it is for me, and I imagine it must be for the people around me.

4. Eight

5. I've always wanted a pair of penny loafers with shiny copper pennies in them. I don't care if it's dorky.

6. Yesterday my boss asked me if I was on my meds. *gulp*

7. Somehow I know with every fiber in my being that I will write my book. I can't say when, but I know I will write it.

8. I worry that I will never have children. For whatever reason. I've always promised myself that I would not allow that to be dependent on another person--that I would do it by myself if that's what it took. I hate to admit that this will probably ultimately end up being the situation. It's a lonely and sobering thought.

9. When I was in third grade, I was so ashamed that I'd dramatically outgrown my shabby and dingy winter coat that I went an entire winter without it. I hid it so no one would find it, and I pretended I was never cold.

10. I pretended it didn't really matter to me, but it did.