Last night, Ned and I went to the Post Secret Lecture at Wake Forest, which is a university where you learn all about woods that can't sleep. It's a school where they get you drunk and throw you in the forest, where you wake up lost. It's a school where the trees chatter like magpies, and you're all GO TO BED.
Am waiting for some Cliff Claven to write in and tell me what Wake Forest really means. Will be fascinated. I promise.
So, Post Secret, as I've told you before and pay attention, is a website where the founder of the thing (can you be a "founder" of a website? I just totally made that up, didn't I?) shows you post cards he received each week where people reveal their innermost secrets.
Last night he spoke about this phenomenon, and how he got started, and
secrets he's heard and then if you wanted, under the dimmed lights you
could go up and reveal yours.
Ned had a headache, but he went with me anyway. Then the whole time he looked miserable and headachy. Had Ned gotten to the microphone, his secret would have been, "I wish to remove my head and bludgeon June with it."
Poor Ned. I kept giving him the acupressure thing on his hand–have you ever tried it? it works sometimes–oh for God's sake, Google it–but it did not work for Ned, who clearly had one of those three-hour tumors we've heard so much about.
When you walked in, they handed you a post card, where you could write your OWN secret and mail it to the Post Secret guy. "Do you have any deep secrets?" I asked Ned, who claimed he did not. So then I made a bunch up on his post card.
Anyway, finally the program began and Frank, the founding father of Post Secret, was just great. He said the secret he hears most is that people pee in the shower. I honestly think I have never once peed in the shower. I mean, why would you need to? You're already in the bathroom. I always pee before showering anyway. But if you've done it, no judgement here.
When people got up and told their secrets, sometimes you just wanted to cry.
Anyway, after it was over, I said, "I am so doing this on my blog tomorrow. A faithful reader suggested that we have 'Fess Up Friday,' but now I'm too excited about it and I want to have, um, oh hell. It could be Secrets Saturday or Thrilling Thursday, but what the hell can Wednesday be?"
And that is why today is Weveal Wednesday, where if you want, you can tell us a secret. Sign in as anonymous, or as Not June or as Secret Person. Whatever. If you're really super worried, use a fake email address when you sign in. And no matter what the secret is, no one is allowed to say anything negative about it. We just have to let it be.
If you just want to say, "Lovely post, June," or "Did Ned ever recover?" you can do that too. (Answer: As soon as he ate something, he felt fine. He got the salmon. The waiter had to come over eleventy thousand times but finally he got the salmon. I had the pistachio-encrusted flounder, though, and I think I got the superior dish.)
But I'd love to have Weveal Wednesday most of all. We are only as sick as our secrets.