Maybe you should kiss someone nice. Or lick a rock. Or both.

During a conversation Drew and I got into the other day, one of us brought up secrets (having them, keeping them, theming gardens around them), and I decided I must not have a very good conception of what a "secret" is.

First, my initial reaction would be to say (which I did) that I don't have any secrets. I can't think of a single piece of information about my past or self that I wouldn't reveal if asked... except for small, specific things that I may keep from individual people, but not from the general population (I never got more than 100 pages into The Blind Assassin. Don't tell Jenny). Does that count? Because when I think of secrets, I tend to define them as things that you'd rather not tell the majority of people. A closeted gay man has a secret.

But both varieties are technically secrets. Consequently, I guess you'd have to consider whether it would be more insulting or significant to be one of the Uninformed Citizens in the General Population or to be Individually Out of the Loop. Considering how much of a bad rap being singled out gets (outside of TV dating game shows), being the subject of individual exclusion would seem like the greater evil. So does that mean I'm theoretically a worse person in the secret-keeping world?

Logically, maybe. But considering the inconsequential nature of most of my secrets, I'm still going to claim moral dominance over, like, closet serial killers.

5 Things I Like About Summer:
- Warm fingers and toes despite poor circulation
- Higher probability of seeing kids fall off skateboards
- Triple T Part II: "We can actually keep the ball in the court this year"
- Stopping the insanity
- Manifesting the Two Face syndrome in my body tan lines