You've heard of that postcards confessional thing, right? The one where (supposably) real people write their real confessions on a postcard then snail mail it where somebody else scans the postcard and posts the (supposably) real confessions written on the real postcard and post it on a website for all the world to see.
My manager attended a management training seminar last week that took four different approaches to it, one of those aspects being "spiritual," or as "spiritual" as you can get in a corporate setting without crossing into the "religious" territory. One of the last activities they did was to cleanse or purge their "spiritual selves" (souls?) by confessing their deepest, darkest secret. All the participants wrote their confessions on a piece of paper, anonymously of course, then they were read out loud by the facilitator. My manager said there was some pretty intense, deep secrets that were shared.
I started thinking about what I would write (anonymously, of course) on a piece of paper to be shared with a group of strangers. Ouch. Scary. No way am I saying that!
So instead, here are other deep, dark secrets of mine for you, world wide intraweb.
I like hot dogs. I know. Gross, huh? Sometimes I even crave them. Sometimes, I even stop at 7-11 and get a Big Gulp (Diet Coke, of course!) with a hot dog. With some ketchup, mustard and a dollop of relish, it's almost the perfect dog. It could only be made more perfect with onions topping it, but those dang onions will witness against me every time that I just ate a 7-11 hot dog -- either by the smell left in the car or the smell left on my breath. I indulge in the onions at a Dodger game (no better hot dog than a Dodger Dog!), but rarely elsewhere.
I can't subtract from zero. I know. Weird, huh? I mean, I *can,* -- I know the principle of subtracting from a number that's less than the one you're subtracting -- you just borrow from its neighbor. But when there's two zeros in a row, it gets confusing and I need a calculator. It's like life -- you can't keep borrowing from the neighbors before they start expecting something in return, and I don't know how to do that in math.
On Wednesdays when I work from home, I get more work accomplished in a shorter amount of time, which is a math-y way of saying there's more time to play, which I do. Frequently. Sue me. It means more peace and joy in my life because I'm not having to deal with the noisiness of work....of which there is much.
I turn my Blackberry off at 7 p.m. on weekdays and on Fridays, it stays off until Monday morning at seven. I don't ever feel guilty about not doing work during those hours. There's an off switch for a reason!
That's enough for now, I think, if only because going to the bathroom sounds like a better offer than writing more. Yes, world wide intraweb, I'm trading you in for a trip to the potty. Should I put that on a postcard?