What is honesty?

So no one asked me to expound on honesty, but Bart wrote: "you're so dreadfully honest ann"

...but what is it to be honest. Is it to be truthful? Maybe that's part of it, but "truthful" lacks honesty's depth. You can tell the truth with facts (I went to work today, I can drive a car, ...), but facts are important but incomplete. You can really trick people with facts. Chose the right topic and you can feign intimacy (hey, I'm in my jammies right now)... and tone of voice is everything. I had a job where I told each person, the same factual thing day in and day out and somehow the people felt bonded with me.

Integrity, that's noble. Everyone says they are looking for people with integrity, but most of the time I think they are hoping to find people who will lie for them instead of to them.

I'm not trying to be funny, but truthfully, I don't see myself as an honest person... not that I am dishonest. For example, I wrote to Zanla off-blog. I said:

"I need to express my thoughts, but my problem, as you know, is that so many of my thoughts are pretty sexual. I am afraid to be totally open on the site because I am easily identifiable and I don't want to be hounded by freaks. I know I could have made myself more anonymous, but then I couldn't be authentic. "

He suggested that I create a second blog, but I have decided not to do that. It takes so much effort to do a good job with one blog. I also think I would lose interest in creating something that intense that no one is reading. It would be like masturbation, and frankly wouldn't make more sense to actually... ok, see what I mean?

So, am I dishonest because I am not brave/stupid enough to put every thought that pops into my head on the internet? If so, I'll accept that. I was just thinking today that if I applied for a job that required a security clearance, I'd have to delete all of this. I wouldn't have to... I could be "honest" and leave it up... I've committed no crime here, but I'd rather be "dishonest" and take it down, than "honest" and lose out on a really interesting job.

A big part of honesty for me is being honest with myself and to myself (like being true to myself). Sometimes that means being dishonest or at least illusive with others. This "total honesty" crap that is being peddled right now by relationship counselors, talk show hosts, relationship counselors that are talk show hosts, and their ilk is bullshit. Being honest with myself and to myself first is critical. Being as honest as I can with everyone else is important too, but it does not override the honesty I owe myself. This is how I separate what's me from what's someone else.

What do I want?

Zanla cheated - he wrote his question to me on IM instead of responding to the blog... and he has a blog. Go figure! Anyway... he asked: What do you want? (the question most guys have for women)

I have to say that one downside I have discovered about blogging is that I have a tendency to try to condense my thoughts into a few pithy sentences. I think there is a great deal of value in being able to distill my thoughts in a way that makes them easier for me to express and digest, and makes them more accessible for an audience (Who will read page after page of personal musings? After writing all of that, will I even know what I've said?). However, snappy answers aren't really exploration - they are more like knee-jerk reactions.

Ok to the question... The short answer is that I want to make a real impact with my life. I am not saying that I want to "change the world" - I am not entirely sure the world needs changing. I want as many people as possible to feel that their lives were changed for the positive because of me. Not from a distance - I don't want to run a foundation and just write checks or I don't want to hold public office. I like to not just put names with faces, but lives and stories with faces.

It gives me a sense of purpose because it's a goal that will never be reached. It would be possible to do something that, in a single act, would change the world... and then what? It gives me a sense of urgency, because I don't know how much time I have. One of my co-workers lost her husband over the weekend (after about 3 months of struggling, he succumbed to heart disease). I don't have any health issues that I know about (which considering my past is a miracle that I take as a sign that I need to do something important with my life), but you never know...

I don't think this is what Zanla was getting at though. I was answering the big "What do you want from life?" question and that is not really what he asked, but there are so many ways to take that question...

What do I want from a minimalist perspective?
I want to not worry about having food to eat, safety or shelter. I want the same for the people I love. I want to feel each day like I moved forward in some way. That's all pretty generic. To feed my special neuroses... I want at least one man to lust after me each day, if only in his heart. I want my hair to stay frizz-free and I want to have found a way to keep my big mouth in check (these are the two most common points of failure for me on any given day).

What do I want in a man ?
Easy. Nothing that you don't already have naturally. There is no way to fake me out. I've been at this too long. Nothing is a bigger turn off for me than fake effort - although I am usually pretty flattered by it. Nothing is a bigger turn on for me than effort that was genuine...even if it ends up with disastrous results. What I usually get is something in between: genuine effort if sex is imminent; and on more than one occasion I have convinced myself that this was good enough. Guys, see that - nothing about penis size or orgasms (ladies: if you are wondering why you can't find a man who will give you a great orgasm, you are most likely blaming the wrong person). Ok, I'll admit it... I also love guys to give me things. Note I didn't say "buy" me things. I would totally melt to hear, "When I saw this pretty pink stone washed up on the shore in Dubrovnik I had to grab it for you because it was so pink and wet..." ok you see where I'm going... I want to be thought of... I'm getting off track here.

What do I want for my birthday - which is next week...
Don't know. The thought is the big deal, not the gift. I hate the idea of telling someone what I want for my birthday and then they run out and buy me that. Duh! So I have suffered through birthday after birthday because it is so rare that someone actually gets me a gift that really fits for me. I have gotten expensive gifts and been shocked by the expense, but rarely - and it has happened - have I gotten something that shows the giver knows me deeply. I sound like a total bitch here. People are dying all over the world and I hate what I get for my birthdays.

Well, I guess on a grander scale I am saying that what I want this year for my birthday, rather than someone getting me something, I want someone to get me.

Who am I? Part two

After reading comments from two good friends (the only people in the world who I have told about this blog, btw), I had two more thoughts about identity in general and my identity in specific.

Identity in general: Allysther is my college roommate and my sister. I know lots of people who consider a friend a sister, but as with my biological sister, I am satisfied to know she exists in the world - sometimes thinking about me, but often not, always a part of me. There is so much that I don't know about the details of their lives, but there are things I know about them intuitively...

Ok, so my point here is that who I am contains parts of who other people are. I have lots of acquaintances, but there are not many people with whom I am authentic. When I do let someone close, that person really becomes a part of me - I care what he/she thinks and feels. Lots of people say they don't care what other people think... and maybe I care too much... actually I know I care too much... but I couldn't imagine how I would connect with other people if I really didn't care what they thought. And I couldn't imagine going through life so disconnected.

So question: How does the identity of others influence my identity?
In different ways... 99% of people pass in and out of my life without notice... the people in line with me at 7-11, the people in cars around me on the highway, sitting in a movie theatre with me (having one of those collective solo experiences that have become the hallmark of American culture).

.05% of people I can picture in my head - maybe I know a name, maybe I don't. People I see consistently, and even speak to, but know nothing about. The #33 6:20 a.m. bus driver, the copier dude, you get the idea. They help my day to day life function.

.03% of people I have the illusion of knowing well. Co-workers, relatives, that type. I know details about them (they drink decaf, they are married and have 2 kids, they drive a white Honda Accord) but I don't know them. I put almost all of the guys I have dated in this category. I'm not really being cold - there are only 3 guys that I dated in the traditional sense- all the others were really what people in the singles scene today would call "hook-ups". I have never really bought into the idea of going out with the same guy more than once or twice. There are so many out there, why limit yourself?

.01% of people I interact with and maybe just for a second, but they influence me in some way. An attractive guy I have never seen before eyes me as I walk from the parking garage and suddenly what I have on becomes my new favorite outfit. The kid at the grocery store who called me "ma'am" and made me sit in my car despairing at how my youth is over. The old bastard that practically ran me over with his luggage cart in the customs line at the airport - and then had the nerve to yell at me.

And then that .01% of people - maybe even fewer, that really get into my blood. And they change me and are a part of who I am.

Those people never leave your life. I found myself Goolging an ex. Not any ex, but my first ex. He was not my "first" (I was his), but he was the first person to ever earn the title "boyfriend". Today is his birthday. I didn't find him, so Bear, happy birthday where ever you are and who ever you have become.

Who am I?

Ok, tough one right off the bat... shout out to Bart for being my first... and you never forget your first ;)

I'm excited to say the answer is still evolving.

I spent my teen years trying to "invent" myself. I wanted to be a call-girl and I created this whole persona... and I was happy (aside from the typical teenage angst - you know, 10,000 Maniacs, dark room, self-medication, blah, blah, blah), but I wanted more. I could see that the end of that road would come quickly.

So, I went to college and became a different kind of "professional". I have built a nice career...still in the building phase, really... and walked the straight and narrow for well past a decade...but I wasn't happy. I was sinking and I didn't even realize it was happening. I gained weight; one by one I gave up my outside interests; stopped buying new clothes. My life had become no bigger than the boundaries of my cubicle.

One day I just snapped. I quit my job and just drifted for a couple months. In my opinion, everyone should do that at some point - what an eye opener!

I sent out scores of resumes and went to career fairs, but my next job actually found me. .. and I am in love with what I do. I spend 2/3rds of the year at my home in the US and 1/3rd in Eastern Europe.

The whole point of this preamble is to say that for the first time in my life, my job or role does not define me. I am beginning to define me. I really don't know myself. I struggled to fill out my profile. I am learning things about myself now. I never knew I was interested in and good at learning foreign languages. And that I, the girl who ditched math class, have a knack for accounting.

On a more fundamental level, I didn't know that I could still be attractive - in a different way... much different... than what I thought "being sexy" meant when I was young. I wasn't aware, until just over a year ago, how urgently important being attractive is to me. I mean that more in an Evita Peron way than a "Desperate Housewives" way.

So, who am I...? I'm trying to find out, and finally I am doing what it takes to really know. I am standing on my own two feet, insisting on respecting myself and others - and expecting the same in return.

Why blog?

I could say that I finally gave in to my good friend who started his own blog months ago. He brought the subject up once again today so I burned up 3 hours and got started.

I could say that I was inspired by the "PostSecret" blog project...and I am inspired. I want to send my own postcard in so badly, but I will probably never be brave enough. Maybe it would be cathartic to put my biggest secret out there, but there is something sad about the fact that I do not have a real person in my life that I can share it with so I have to put it out there for thousands of total strangers. Not just total strangers - I have friends that I know read it. So they would be reading - and judging - and wouldn't know it was me, but I'd know. Too weird...think I'll save it.

So then why? Don't know for sure...
Possibility 1: Look at me! Look at me!
Possibility 2: My insatiable need to be liked... several people have asked if I blog so maybe I am doing this to be "in"
Possibility 3: I wanted to be able to pour my heart out in a public place and therefore feel like I have put the truth "out there" - figuring no one will actually read it so I could really be intimate - but secretly hoping that someone is reading it.

Pathetic, but whatever the truth is, it's probably closest to #3.

Why did I call it "Ask me something deep"?
Truthfully, because a lot of other ideas I thought up were already taken. But seriously, since I was 12 I have found writing down my thoughts and rereading them, even just a few hours later, helps me gain perspective. So ask me something deep...

Hint: "Deep" does not mean "random".

One of the perks of working for the Philadelphia Eagles last season... 

Look who I ran into in the Sarajevo airport. Actually, he came over to talk to me. Turns out he noticed *me* when I got on the flight in Vienna. (It's Coolio for those who don't know...) 

This is me in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina just a month after the bridge behind me was dedicated. It was destroyed in 1993 during the war.

This is a picture I took of myself one night when I got bored in Sarajevo.