So today it was suggested that I be bluntly honest at all times. The unspoken implication, of course, being that I'm some sort of pathological liar.

I'm annoyed by this. Annoyed enough that I will now present two facts.

Fact One: I do not believe that honesty should be used as an excuse for cruelty.

Fact Two: I do not believe that discretion and honesty are mutually exclusive.

That is all.

Fill this out about your SENIOR year of high school! The longer ago it was, the more fun the answers will be!!

1. Who was your best friend?
That year it was probably either Jeff or Mike - both cousins of mine.

2. What sports did you play?
Yeah, right.

3. What kind of car did you drive?
A 1973 Mercury Comet with a 351 Cleveland motor in it. It was ugly as fuck, but it screamed.

4. On a Friday night what were you doing?
Usually hanging out at Mike's

5. Were you a party animal?
No, I could never keep up with those people.

6. Were you considered a flirt?
Nope.

7. Were you in band, orchestra, or choir?
No, I was straight even then.

8. Were you a nerd?
Smart yes, but a nerd? I don't think so. I mean I wasn't in the A/V club or anything like that.

9. Did you get suspended/expelled?
I was a good kid.

10. Can you still sing the fight song?
Again, I was and still am straight.

11. Who was your favorite teacher?
Maybe Mrs. Webber. She was very nice.

12. Where did you sit during lunch?
I think that was the year I mostly just hung out at my locker and watched the girls go by.

13. Name the school full name?
Floyd Central Junior/Senior High School.

14. School mascot?
A Highlander. Not the immortal dude from books and TV though. Basically, a guy in a dress playing bagpipes.

15. School colors?
Green and gold.

16. Rival high school?
New Albany High School.

17. Did you go to Prom?
No, Lisa and I went straight to the after-prom sex.

18. If you could go back and do it again, would you?
It would be fun for a few days. I would take zero shit from anyone.

19. What do you remember most about graduation?
That it was a relief.

20. Where did you go senior skip day?
Yes, and I told my mom beforehand that I'd be doing it. There was a kegger at the house of some guy I never heard of. It was fun.

21. Favorite memory?
That was a long time ago. Too long ago for me to pick out a favorite memory. Probably something to do with Lisa though.

22. Were you in any clubs?
Not in Senior year. I was in the Spanish club before that though.

23. Where did you go most often for lunch?
Whoa, deja vu. I stood at my locker and watched pretty girls.

24. Have you gained some weight since then?
Yes, but not as much as some have. I mean, I haven't totally blimped-out.

25. Who was your Senior prom date?
Would have been Lisa if we'd gone to either mine or to hers.

26. Are you planning on going to your 10-year reunion?
No. I went to my 20th though. And I'll go to my 25th when it happens.

27. Who was your home room teacher?
No homeroom when I was a Senior.

28. Who will repost this after you?
Fuckifiknow Jones.

29. Who was your high school sweetheart?
That year it was Lisa. Before that it was Jackie.

30. Do you still talk to people from high school?
I run into old classmates very rarely. Like the other day at the funeral home. Most of my graduating class seems to have disappeared.

31. Did you win prom queen or king?
Bwaaaahahaha!

32. Where did you work in high school?
Nowhere, unless you count mowing my grandmother's yard for like $5 each week.

33. what were your grades?
By then I was pretty much all straight-As.

By the time I'd posted my overlap entry late Friday night, it had already happened. But nobody knew it yet besides the dozens of kids who'd started calling each other within minutes.

My sister didn't find out until after 5:00 Saturday morning. I didn't find out until after 6:00.

At 6:21, my phone rang. I looked at the screen. It was my sister, Dina. I answered. She was crying.

Now my grandmother has been in the hospital for a couple of weeks, and not in the best of health. So I steeled myself for the news that my grandmother had died.

But that's not what had happened. That's not why Dina was crying.

I can never remember the exact words at times like this.

"Cory...(blah)...accident...(blah)...killed...died," she told me.

My mind went off-track. I hadn't steeled myself for this. Not at all.

Wait a second, I thought. Cory is her son's name. My nephew's name. And he was killed AND he died? That's just too much.

It's still too much. It will be too much for a very long time.

---

I've been at Dina's all day. Everyone has gathered around her. Doing what we can, which isn't much, but it's something. Making phone calls so family and friends don't hear about it on the news. Screening calls to Dina's house. Making sure that someone is always at her side, offering comforting touches.

My family is destroyed.

---

I suppose it's ironic or something that all of the thoughts I used to suppress so that I could sleep, those are the thoughts I call upon now to let me sleep. I call upon these fantasies from the past to distract me from the horrors of the present.

---

I went to work Monday. Dina had gone to the visitation for another boy killed in the accident. I needed to keep busy. So I sat at work and configured some software while my nephew lay on a slab at the funeral home.

---

I'm so worried about my sister. About everyone in my family, but mostly about Dina.

This is the hardest thing she will ever do. She will get through it though. Not because she wants to, because there will certainly be times when she doesn't want to. But she'll get through it because she has to. Because she's the strongest person I know, and because she has a daughter and another son. She will get through this and while she'll never get over this pain, she will get to the point where she can at least live with it.

---

Tomorrow is Cory's visitation. The funeral is Wednesday.

So fucking surreal.

---

One of many news stories about the accident.

My family has suffered an unimaginable tragedy.

I don't know when I'll be back here. I'm not going to trivialize what's happened by writing my usual irrelevant drivel.

I can't help but think, sometimes. Even though I know that thinking is, quite often, a really stupid and pointless endeavor, sometimes I just can't stop myself.

Right now, I'm thinking about a couple of sheets of paper, lying on a table. And one paper is overlapping the other, just a little bit. Just at one corner.

On each of those papers, there is a story. The stories are totally isolated, completely self-contained. Just like the paper on which they're written. Except for that one corner, where they overlap.

I like that part. It's my favorite. More than that, I think that it might be the only part that matters.

I suppose it's a good day when the worst thing that happened was that I woke up from a dream too early.

I was at Rich O's, of course. It seemed like it was just after work, but it must have been later than that because it was already dark outside.

I was sitting with NotHideousGirl, making small talk with her as she ate a salad. I was having some beer but I don't know what it was.

When NotHideousGirl was ready to leave, I offered to walk her to her car. Because it was dark, and also because there were hoodlums hanging around the car wash at night.

We went outside, and she didn't have the slightest idea where she had parked. So I took her hand and we started walking. There must have been a million cars spread out across ten thousand parking lots. But that was okay. I'd walk with her and make sure that she got to her car safely. Because I'm nice and shit.

After we'd walked about a gazillion miles away from Rich O's without seeing any cars that looked even remotely like hers, NotHideousGirl suddenly remembered where she'd parked.

"Fuck," she said. "I'm parked right outside the door. We must have walked right by my car."

So we turned around and started walking back toward Rich O's. It was really quite nice. Walking along, holding hands with a pretty girl. All of the hoodlums were staring at us, but they weren't doing any of their catcalling or any of their other usual antics. I was protecting my friend from crap like that. I was useful.

Then, all of a sudden, NotHideousGirl saw something off to the right. I didn't get a good look myself, but there was something going down. It was some gang thing. Some revenge that one gang was exacting on another. I wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but I knew that it was dangerous for NotHideousGirl and me to be there.

NotHideousGirl let go of my hand, and she started running back towards Rich O's. I ran after her as well as I could, but it was like I was running underwater or something. NotHideousGirl was literally running circles around me - desperate to keep moving, but unwilling to leave me behind. As she ran circles around me, she kept grabbing my hand and trying to pull me along with her. I wanted to go faster, but I just couldn't.

After a very long time, we finally got to NotHideousGirl's car. She got in and sped away.

By this time I was pissed. There I'd been, having a perfectly wonderful time, and then those fucking gang-bangers had gone and ruined everything. There I was, in my own fucking dream, and these punks had spoiled everything.

I decided to go and kick all of their punk asses. I started walking back to where the commotion had been taking place, but I woke up.

Those punks got soooooo lucky. I was going to mess them up real good. I was going to grab them by their ankles and swing them around and slam their heads into the ground. I was going to fucking kill them for ruining my sweet hand-holding dream.

But instead, I woke up.

We have such an oddly strained relationship, sleep and I.

I've spent a good portion of the last few years wishing for sleep, but finding it unattainable. And I've spent a very large portion of the last couple of months trying to avoid sleep, but finding it unavoidable.

Tonight, I wish that I could just stay up. Stay awake all night and then somehow manage to function at work tomorrow despite the lack of sleep.

What used to be an escape for me, it's transformed into something else. A nuisance, I guess. A biological obligation that I'd rather do without.

I don't want to sleep tonight. I can't shake the feeling that I might miss something wonderful.

And besides, I've got crap to think about.

Like, a short while ago, in an email to RockGirl, I joked about being tested. And passing that test with flying colors. And being rewarded for passing. It was all fun and games, but there was also truth buried underneath my words.

And now, now I feel like I'm truly being tested. And I don't have the slightest idea what it is I'm being tested for. Friendship? Loyalty? Honesty? I believe that I can (and should!) pass any test for those qualities. But what about the more advanced topics?

What about compassion? What about empathy? What about those things for which there is no right answer, only the illusion of correctness that my own point-of-view and my own perspective brings?

And what if the test is made up entirely of trick questions, only I'm not sure that they're really trick questions at all?

I wish I didn't have to sleep tonight.

I could spend the entire night thinking about what I've seen and heard recently. I could spend the entire night figuring out exactly what it is that this test is supposed to be measuring.

And then I could decide whether I wanted to pass that test or not. And whether I want to cheat or not.

Of course I didn't really say this. The whole thing just reminded me of an old Ren and Stimpy show where they had this conversation.