When do we take old skeletons out of closets? -- we speculated. Will there be a time they wouldn't shock /embarass anymore? When we get to 60? 70? Beyond? At our deathbeds?
And now here comes Toe, high priestess of the kurokuro cult, upperclasswoman of the blogging society, tagging me and two other come-latelies to a meme, daring us to publish -- for anyone who cares to see -- five of our well-kept secrets.
Now, as blogger, I am told I come across as bubbly, funny, game-na-game. Not wanting to spoil this (mis)impression and eager as a beagle to fasttrack my mainstreaming into this cool, kewl society, I have agreed to dare and bare. Well, some.
Let me see. I guess the following secrets may now be declassified:
- Most dastardly secret: I sometimes keep chocolates from my children so I can have them all. I must be the most clever chocolate hider on earth. At first, I was so unimaginative I hid them under the bed. -- but they were soon tracked out. And so I looked for unlikely hiding places: inside a canister labeled "FLOUR," inside the medicine cabinet behind vile-looking bottle of scotch emulsion; on the altar back of Christ the King. Nights, when the pesky ones sleep the sleep of the unknowing, I stealthily rise to take the contraband from its hiding place and take it to bed with me while i read, relishing it morsel by divine morsel. Ah, this is the life, I used to murmur.
- Most aw-shucks secret: I lie to make each kid feel special. As if to neutralize dastardly act No. 1, I am sometimes capable of taking a small, delightful thing (e.g., an apple, a toy, a stationery set, a book) to one child, with an admonitiion to "hush-don't-tell the others-about it- you're-the-only-one- I am giving this too." What he doesnt know is next day or next week, I go to the next child with more or less the same gift, the same script. I like the way a child's face lights up when told he's the special one among so many and being handed a trophy as an evidence of it
- Most unpardonable secret: I read my daughters' diaries. Everyone says this is a no-no, but I can't help it. My excuse: I want to know what's happening in my children's lives -- whether they are happy or troubled." Well, I guess they have learned to live with it. While I was at it one day, straining to read my bunso's deliberately disfigured handwriting, I suddenly came across a line, all caps, boldface: "HI, MOM. I KNOW YOU'RE READING THIS. ENJOY! :) " Yup, my bonch is a brat.
- Most criminal secret: I plagiarized unabashedly. In high school, I drooled over my dad's letters to my mom -- sent from La Union where he was based for a time. He would be particularly sappy on Valentine's Day with lines like: "The pivotal truth, the all-consuming truth is that I love you. Yes, you, to whom I am the best even at my worst." And so when my class had to write an essay that December on Mother's Day, Teacher singled out my piece, reading out aloud the best part of what I wrote: "Yes, you, my beloved mother, to whom I am the best even at my worst." She ended with "very good, very promising" as a the young girl that was me beamed, blissfully unaware of intellectual property rights.
- Latest secret: I was a Philippine idol fanatic. I spent a small fortune e-voting for Jan, for Mau, for Pao. And this was how I met Noemi and her blogs , so I could root for my idols. And the rest, as the cliche goes, is history.
There you go, Toe, your meme accomplished with five secrets unleashed. Not deep dark and shocking, though. But teenyweeny, cutesy, the color of honey.
Well, Toe, I got crimson-colored secrets, too. But you're not old enough for them. :)
Now, whom shall I tag?