It's alive! The Great Mofo Delurk

Joke's on me, I guess! Because after I announced that today I would post "something so provocative, so unexpected, so startling that ye shall be driven to comment," it dawned on me: oh, crickets, now I've got to think of something provocative and shocking to say! My life isn't exactly full of secret agent activities, after all. Nor do I rub elbows with Hollywood's elite. Hell, I have a hard enough time getting out of the house to rub elbows with Gainesville's service industry! But here goes nothing: PostSecret.

PostSecret isn't my brainchild; it's been around for a long time. But since I'm too lazy to draw up my own homemade postcard and write something provocative on it, I'll just take the easy route and use my blog. (Bet you never knew I was so practical, eh?)

The only problem with me doing PostSecret is that I'm not a very secretive person. (John and my entire family just died laughing.) But I'll give it a whirl. In exchange, I ask that you use the comment field to post a secret of your own. Come on, you can do it! It can even be anonymous! In no particular order:

1. People think I'm a great listener. And while it's true, I think it's mostly true because I'd rather listen to someone else talk about themselves than to have to talk about myself. So when people ask me how I'm doing, nine times out of ten, I'll just say "fine" and leave it at that.
2. I think about death a lot. Specifically, I spend a lot of time wondering what happens after a person dies.
3. People who tell you that if you die in your dreams, you'll die shortly thereafter in real life are lying: I've died many, many, many times in my dreams and I'm still kicking!
4. This isn't completely fair, since John knows this one, but I'll go with it anyway: I have a sinking feeling that when it comes to graduate school, I have everyone snowed. I've made great headway in graduate school, yes. But I've got a sneaking suspicion that pretty soon, people are going to figure out that I'm not as smart as they think I am. And then they're going to kick me out.
5. When my dog, Alex, died in 2000, I cried for 12 hours straight and then on and off for several days. The pain in my chest was so great that I swore I'd never get another dog. Five years later, when we saw Luke at the rescue place, I knew it was time to move on. But I still can't think about Alex without crying.

Okay! That's all the time we have for Ritualistic Unburdening. Now it's your turn. Go!