A Night of Secrets

Secrets.

Everyone has them, and I am no exception. That's probably hard to believe, considering I have this blog...but believe it or not, I do actually do a bit of self-editing. Anyway, chicks love secrets--and they LOVE "sharing" emotionally...which is why girls love Post Secret.

I've mentioned Post Secret before, it's a blog where this dude posts secrets every Sunday. People mail him their deepest, sometimes darkest, secrets on little post cards. I read it now and then, but Leah is very religious in her reading of the new secrets that are posted on Sunday.

Well tonight the creator of Post Secret gave a lecture at our old school (DUMSL). I kinda wanted to bail out on this event, mainly because I have feel really weird walking around campus AND NOT being a student. Anyway, Leah says I'm always bailing out on the stuff she plans (which is only half true--besides, most of the things she wants to do scares the crap out of me: horseback riding, swimming, dancing, etc.). So tonight, even though I wanted to do some writing, I made a point of taking her to this guy's lecture.

It was interesting. I forget his name (shows how much I pay attention) but the guy's interesting enough. He worked for the same crisis hotline as Leah (which is cool). And even though the event was sort of a commercial for his website and four books (which were in the lobby for sale), it's all good because he donates a lot of money to suicide prevention. There were three acts to this event: the first was him telling us how he started Post Secret as an art project, the second part was a slide show of secrets that were deemed "unprintable" by his publishers, and the third was an open mike.

I did okay until the open mike portion. There was one mike, and it was about three feet away from where I was sitting (on the end of the aisle). When the dude finished his lecture, he opened the floor up to anyone who wanted to get up and either ask a quesiton or tell a secret they wished to share.

This chick got up and went on this long rant about how she got an STD, and how it changed her life...and how she was going to follow the Post Secret guy's example and start an art project. I started to squirm, because she was very nervous and doing that whole talking-too-fast thing people do when they're nervous. Then she started describing her project, and things went downhill. This girl, who has this nasty/taboo-ish STD starts talking about mailing notebooks out for people afflicted with this illness to write their thoughts, feelings, story, etc. and to share and pass this book along to other (some, as she said, who might not even have the disease).

Except she didn't say "pass" or "share" but instead said "spread." She just kept saying "spread" over and over--and I nearly lost it (because I'm an immature fuck). To make matters worse, she kept saying "spread" and the name of her project "HPV Files" like, back-t0-back. I felt bad for her (because it sucks to have an STD, let alone get up and talk about it (I imagine)) and I also felt bad for being so damn immature. But I couldn't help it.

So anyway, I thought that in the spirit of tonight's STL Post Secret-ness, I'd share a secret with all of you--dear LIMEMONKEY readers.

And here it is:

"I am a horribly immature."