I don’t have a photograph of my hate face, but it’s surprisingly similar to my laughing while at Wolf Trap face.
Recently I’ve been thinking about what I choose to write about on Best of Fates.
‘Cause that’s the strange thing about blogging.
Aside from my laziness in posting and my fear of writing about clowns, I think I provide all of you with a rather accurate glimpse into my life.
But, of course, there’s some stuff left out.
I try to refrain from sharing how terribly boring my life truly is.
(That’s a secret, so let’s try to keep it hush hush, okay?)
I don’t write about boys and such, both because I find such things terribly private and because dating me has enough pitfalls without public mockery coming into play.
(Which is why I shall probably never share any of my myriad of accidental date stories, a true loss.)
(Truly, I’ve gone on more than five dates completely by accident.)
(That’s normal, right?)
I also try very hard to portray my reality as accurately as possible.
(This is helped by having friends like Skye, who emails me the moment a post goes up if there’s absolutely any factual inaccuracy or exaggeration – “Um, you weren’t eating cheese when we decided the contest winner.” “Um, we used vinegar on the walls, not ammonia.”)
(Not that I find these emails annoying. Quite the opposite – it makes me feel as though I’m totally held accountable for everything I write.)
(Which is probably a very good thing.)
(Also, she doesn’t write “um” in real life.)
(That was artistic license.)
(Which I just clarified I never use.)
But lately I’ve been reading quite a few posts about bloggers whitewashing their realities – making their lives seem better, more organized, happier, less cockroach-filled than they actually are.
And while I don’t think any of my readers consider my life to be all that ideal, I realized I do tend to only write about things I love.