I got a fake tooth yesterday. My first one in my 35 odd years of being on this Earth. Before the fake tooth came the root canal, a somewhat unpleasant experience but I expected far worse. It was my own fault really as I waited too long to go see a dentist. But I had this long rooted somewhat irrational fear of dentists from deep within. I can recall, in my adult memory, of course, being in that chair and that needle being jammed into my mouth somewhat unpleasantly. This probably never happened but I can recall with certainty many tears back then.
In Grade 9, I found an awesome dentist! His hygenist too was great and I felt at home while opening my mouth for them to dig around in. Because truth be told, I'd prefer getting blood taken from an arm then have a needle jammed into my gums. Alas we had a falling out. Actually, he moved to a new, somewhat farther location which I believe was in another province so not the easiest commute for one who is vehicularly challenged.
But really, you don't want to hear my dental relationships I'm sure. But my tooth got me thinking. How much of us is real as opposed to being fake? Or, how many faces do we wear around other people? People fascinate me. Everybody's got a story and sometimes there's nothing I love more than hearing people's stories - what makes them tick, what they love, dislike - everything. In that same vein, are they just telling me a story or is there something in me that makes them tell me certain things? I have this knack for people wanting to tell me stuff. How much of what they are telling me is real opposed to fake? How much do I tell people is real as opposed to being fake or untrue?
And that ends my first blog entry. Tune in soon for the school story.