When The Smoke Clears

I'm reading a book called Can You Keep A Secret? by Sophie Kinsella, one of my favorite chick-lit authors. She's the British authoress who wrote all of the Shopaholic books (four in total) that topped the New York Times Best Sellers list. You should read them. Great entertainment for a Saturday afternoon. And you thought I loved shoes! She's completely hilarious. Anyhoo.... I just started reading Can You Keep A Secret? the other day. It's a story about a girl my age who ends up spilling all of her worldly secrets - everything from the fact that she waters her office mate's plant with orange juice when she pisses her off to the fact that she hates G-strings - to the stranger sitting next to her on a very turbulent flight (she's deathly afraid of flying, thus the verbal diarrhea). In her hour and a half gut-spill of private information, she spilled one bit that changed her entire course in life. She's never been in love. She and her boyfriend were the "perfect couple". They were supposed to move in together, but instead, a few days later, she broke up with him, much to the shock and horror of everyone (including him).

So I know that it's just a stupid story in a stupid book, but it got me to thinking about the decisions we make in life, and why we make them. I am the only person on this planet that knows my heart's true desires, and only God knows them better than me. But is it enough for me lie in my bed at night, praying to God that my wishes and desires will come to fruition? Do I even realize what they are unless I share them? Or am I like the character in the book, holding on to what I have because it's the "perfect this" or the "perfect that", when what I really need is a little turbulence and some verbal diarrhea so I can spill my guts and say what I really feel?

I think we all need to share a little more. Maybe we shouldn't do it on a plane ride to a complete stranger when we think we're going to die. Maybe we should share with our best friend or our sister our our spouse. Maybe we shouldn't lie about enjoying jazz music, only to suffer for it for the next 20 years because we don't want to hurt someone's feelings by fessing up to the lie. Maybe if we all opened up a little bit more, instead of trying to be perfect.... maybe if we just acted like ourselves, sarcasm, pimples, cellulite, and drunken photocopies of our faces and all, and all laughed about the fact that we all have these things - all of us - we could move on and enjoy the time we have together. So my answer to the question is to share.