Tearing Down the Semi-charmed Prologue

Absolutely everyone wants you to be impressed by their origin story. Perhaps they felt the need to add one or two embellishments because who’s going to be remotely moved by the tale of a middle class kid with a largely uneventful home life? Where are the towering obstacles to be overcome? Why couldn’t you have included a few exciting inciting incidents to keep people awake all the way to the end of your tale?

So you embroidered an anecdote that admittedly didn’t quite pan out that way. And then you lifted something terribly interesting you heard from someone else secure in your self knowledge that no one else was going to have heard of it before. You weaved the fairy tale tapestry and repeated it so often that you even began to believe the white lies to be the truth. Even I’m not completely sure as to whether or not I actually saw the ghost of a Victorian chambermaid crying in the bath (in a house that was built in the 90s).

But then those pesky officious fact checkers started coming out in full force. They insisted on testing statements for veracity. They had the nerve to denounce things as lies just because they were unable to back them up with anything resembling evidence. The sheer nerve!

So what do you do when you’ve been outed as a liar, a charlatan, a two bit con man with delusions of grandeur? Oh so many options open to you. It’s perfectly possible that you’d feel justified in stamping your little feet, shaking your tiny fists at the detractors and condemning them as saboteurs of glory. You could stand by your mounting hill of bullshit and insist that everyone agree with you that you’re precisely who you say you are. Or, you could hold up your hands and admit that you were attempting to pull the wool over certain people’s eyes, that you got ever so slightly carried away and are sorry now. What to do?

Song choices courtesy of: Red Wanting Blue, Third Eye Blind and Mark Mothersbaugh

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