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.